Chrysalis
by Ape32
Summary: G1, S2, AU. Spike's life is changed forever by a single act of vengeance. Now he must adapt, or lose not only his mind and his friends... but his very soul as well.
1. Altered Path

Disclaimer: All characters are property of HasTak. No profit is being made from this.

The idea behind this story is a simple "What if." As such, this fic is AU thanks to one little event at the start of S2. If it isn't clear when things diverge… it'll be clear soon. Please Read and Review.

* * *

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter One: Altered Path **

It was finished. The madness was over.

As the Decepticons vanished into the horizon, Spike knew that it was finally over, that he had made amends for his treachery… for his insane, stupid act of treason. He had been a fool to believe what that louse Megatron had to say, but his state of mind at the time had been questionable at best - questionable enough for him to trust the ones responsible for his current… condition. Such a blunder he had committed, such a betrayal of his people and his friends. The Autobots were soon standing around him, even as their mortal foes disappeared beyond where the eye could see. Before Spike stood a being he had maligned so horribly it made him sick to his nonexistent stomach.

"You… you saved my life, son. Thanks." Spike mentally cringed at the thanks. Why was he being thanked? Why wasn't Sparkplug denouncing his son for his actions?

"Dad… it was me who put you in danger in the first place." His voice quavered with emotion as the human-turned-Autobot knelt down before his father, his hodgepodge of a body creaking and clanking with each movement, "Can you ever forgive me?" He did not expect forgiveness, even as he offered his huge metal hand to his father… the father his misguidance and misplaced anger had almost gotten _killed_. To Spike's his shock and joy, Sparkplug looked up at his transformed son and patted the hand in reassurance.

"Spike… there's nothing to forgive," he spoke gently as he gazed up into the blue optics that currently belonged to his one and only offspring.

It was funny in a way; Autobot X had already been his "son" in a sense, and was now even more so as its junk born body housed his true son's mind. Spike's metal face wore a huge smile now. If he had been able, he would have been crying at his father's forgiveness. Instead of saying anything he kneeled further so that his shoulder was level with Sparkplug as he attempted to give the man a hug. It was a comical sight, but the message it sent disallowed any observers to the event the right to laugh. It was the sign of forgiveness, of reconciliation even after the unspeakable almost occurred.

He was a fool, this much Spike knew of himself. He was always a bit dull, a bit too daring for his own good… at some level he had wondered what it would be like to be like one of his large robotic friends. Now that he knew… it made him all the more eager to return to his original body. Despite the power behind the Frankenstein monster of a body that was Autobot-X… it just wasn't him. Right now he wanted to collect his real body, return to it, and forget that this whole mess had occurred.

As if his mind had been read, a blue hand placed itself on Spike's shoulder. "We all share Sparkplug's thoughts on this matter, Spike. Now, let's head back to the hospital. By now the doctors should be done, and we will return your mind to your body as soon as possible."

Spike now grinned, breaking the oversized hug that he had his father in and standing up. "Sounds like a plan Prime." A tiny yellow form made its way over to Spike, leaning casually against a huge metal leg.

"So, Spike… aside from that little bout with insanity, how'd you like being an Autobot?" the bug grinned up at his now gargantuan friend. Spike looked down at his friend, still smiling.

"Well, not including the pain from the headaches... not bad. I actually kinda liked being able to fly." There was a wistful tone in his as he spoke of this ability. It was perhaps the only thing about this incident he hadn't regretted… being able to lift himself in the air like a bird, free of all constraints and limitations. He sighed heavily. "But, I'll most cherish the fact that for once… it was ME looking down at YOU." He grinned wryly down at the minibot spy, who returned the grin and punched Spike's leg playfully.

"Aw come on Spike, don't you start in on that. Bad enough I look up at everyone at Ark, I don't need to contend with looking up to you too…"

* * *

As he soared through the skies, Megatron was sure of one thing. He was angry. No, scratch that; he was _furious. _His face, naturally a dark scowl, somehow intensified its unpleasant appearance even further. At this point, it was a mask of cold rage. His plans… once again his plans had been foiled! And all because of that… that _aberration! _That stinking fool child masquerading as a cybertronnian had managed ruin everything. That wretched abomination…

In his memory banks, Megatron could see the human, Spike Witwicky, at the sidelines or at the front, cheering on the Autobots. Always there, like some perverse mascot… and always, ALWAYS finding a way to help spoil things. This time he had gone too far. Megatron had offered him a step up in life, a life free of the pitiful constrains of his organic breed. But no… in the moment of truth he revealed his weakness when he turned Megatron's power against his own warriors. Something had to be done about that human…

"Well 'mighty' Megatron, once again your scheme has blown up in your face. If you had listened to me to begin with…" Megatron almost cringed at the sound of Starscream's voice. Almost. He had gotten used to the Air Commander's grating voice and his scathing attempts to get under Megatron's armor long before coming to this planet. He tuned out the rest of the rant, too engorged in the idea of making the human suffer for this latest humiliation.

Idly, his optics wandered around the planet below him, the buildings and trees and rivers almost blurring together under the lazy gaze of the Decepticon tyrant. Feh, this planet… he would be SO glad when it was drained dry of its resources and its sentient inhabitants were enslaved. His mulling over the Earth was cut short when a building came within range of his optics. It was a hospital… and not just any hospital! It was the one that was housing Spike's body! His unconscious, human body… the wheels began to turn in Megatron's mind as his cruel imagination took hold and grew.

"The rest of you will head back to base. I have some matters to attend to…" Megatron bellowed out, suddenly making a dive for the medicinal facility. Any protests were not heard by the warlord, and apparently his troopers were wise enough this day to heed his orders as the continued on their way to the Decepticon home base… while Megatron maintained his course to the hospital.

He knew time was of the essence. Those scrapheap Autobots would be here soon… he burst through the ceiling, rubble and wreckage following in his wake. As the hospital visitors screamed and ran and did all they could to get away from the metallic monster that had just crashed in, Megatron took the quick approach. Looking around intently for a doctor, he was rewarded by the sight of one such person, an older man trying to herd out the younger patients.

Megatron's massive obsidian hand shot out and snatched up the unfortunate man, sending his charges shrieking in all directions as they tried to get away. He was gripped tight, or at least as tight as he could manage without exerting the force necessary to crush the human physician into a pulp. Forcing the man to face him in the optic, Megatron snarled as he gave his demand.

"WITWICKY! Where is he!?!" came a bellow, his voice more a roar then anything else.

The near-deafened man, perhaps terrified so completely that he couldn't even stutter, pointed shakily down the hall, to one of the wards.

"Ward C, room 304. But, why…?" Having heard what he needed to hear; Megatron wordlessly dropped his captive to the floor and made his way down the hall.

As he neared the mentioned door, the memories of that annoying human pest began to grow stronger and stronger. And, with the strength of the memories, so too did the strength of Megatron's fury grow. He stood before the door for a moment, as if savoring some hard fought victory at getting to it. That lasted only until he simply FORCED his way past the wall, the concrete and steel structure collapsing against him like dried out clay.

On the bed, lying peacefully in deep slumber was Spike - or at least, his mindless body. He looked so… at ease. So contented. Not a care in the universe… this made the energon in Megatron's body boil. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this part.

He aimed his cannon-baring arm….

_So, little Spike likes Autobots, does he? _

A sinister bright pink glow radiated deep from the heart of the weapon…

_Well then, if he likes them so much, he can STAY an Autobot…_

The familiar alien whine of the fusion cannon being charged up was heard as the first crackling sparks of plasma energy appeared at its tip…

…_FOREVER!!! _

He opened fire.


	2. The Sundered

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Two: The Sundered **

It took all of Spike's willpower to simply not go wild with pure unadulterated excitement as he flew through the sky. Flight… this was the one thing he would truly miss about being a robot. The ability to lift himself into the air of his own power, to swim in the clouds like a dolphin at sea… it was this experience that gave him a feeling of total freedom unmatched by any other in his young life. He had allowed the others to go ahead towards the hospital while he remained behind to enjoy the miraculous gift of flight. Just one last time…

Ah, but nothing lasts forever, and even Spike's joyous frolic in the skies had to come to an end. It was a with a heavy, almost sad sigh that he descended from the great blue above, speeding at a fair distance from the ground as he headed in the direction of the hospital. Much as he liked flying, there were qualities about this body he could do without; for instance, there was the matter concerning his sense of touch. He could still feel with his hands, but it was… numbed. He missed the ability of his human hands to contour around whatever he held in its grasp, sending a thousand and one messages to his brain. Transformers could feel, but humans could _feel. _It wasn't so bad. Not compared to some of the things he experienced in his life. In truth the touch subject was merely an out of control thought that wouldn't leave him alone.

Thought. Bizarrely enough, Spike's head was feeling clear for the first time in since he had woken up in this nightmare of a body. Ever since he had awoken there had been this… noise - this horrid, lunacy inducing noise. It spoke to him, whispered how everyone was against him. That it was his so-called friends who had turned him into a monster, feeding on the imbalance and confusion he felt awakening as a machine. Oh, he had tried to suppress it, heaven knew he did. But, when he saw that television program… the one of Frankenstein… it struck a chord within him, and allowed the noise greater influence on his thoughts and actions.

Even when he tried to calm down and introspect upon his new lot in life, it had been there, filling him with dark dreams and evil desires. But now it was silent. Maybe the knowledge of his impending return to humanity had calmed him to the extent that the noise was simply rendered nonexistent. After all, when he had first gotten a grip on himself it had become quieter and quieter. It had almost gone away earlier, before he had seen that show. It was strange… but what did he care? The hospital was just up ahead, and soon- wait…

Why were there fire-trucks surrounding the building?

Good god, was that _smoke_…?

What was going on here!?

* * *

Miles away, in a sunken starship at the bottom of the ocean, someone was thinking similar thoughts. For entirely different reasons, of course…

"YOU IDIOT!!!" Those two words had been spoken by Starscream to Megatron so many times that, by this point, it was practically the Air Commander's way of saying "hello" to his leader. Megatron, however, remained strangely silent as the seeker began his rant. This was not due to any real patience or tolerance he may have possessed concerning his second in command's scorn. On the contrary, he normally had a hair trigger temper and acted on it with painful results for Starscream. But sometimes it was best to let the fool set himself up. It made knocking him down all the more amusing…

"You moron! You wasteful fool! What was the point of destroying the body of that fleshling anyway?!" The agitated Air Commander was practically leaping about as he ranted to Megatron's back. "Now because of you, we have ANOTHER Autobot to contend with! If I were in charge such a hideous blunder would never have occurred…"

Megatron simply sneered as Starscream continued to pile on the derision and insults. _That's right you twit, dig your grave just a little deeper… _

"…miserable disgrace to Decepticons everywhere! You've outdone yourself in the buffoonery department this time, Mega- aigh!!"

"SILENCE!!!"

Starscream suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a blow, feeling the familiar sensation of metal colliding against metal as Megatron turned on him with a vicious backfist. The force of the blow sent Starscream sailing into a corner of the room, trapping him as his leader advanced towards him. "You little fool," Megatron chuckled. "Can you not see it? Have you forgotten already?" he asked the seeker as he loomed over him. Starscream cringed, fighting the urge to bring his hands up for his own protection. What was the old lunatic jabbering about _this _time?

Megatron snorted in disdain. "But of course you did. You never did bother with the little details, Starscream. It's quite simple, really. Spike's mind is fractured. So fractured that he is little more then a wild animal caged by a veneer of rationality. He was so crazed when we came upon him… he was so _easy _to turn. It was only when that progenitor of his was put in danger that he began to think like the weak willed little worm he is…" Now his face took on a cruel smile, vermillion optics glinting. "But, I do believe that he cannot truly handle that body. His mind cannot take it. When he discovers that I have in essence murdered him… he will be shattered, undone."

By now Starscream was cautiously getting to his feet. Megatron allowed him to do so unmolested as he continued. "I foresee him going on a rampage of destruction, entering a world of blind fury that he will not bother to exit. And I see his Autobot friends trying to stop him from harming his puny once-people. The agony that such a thing will cause them… it is perfect. Spike will be gone forever, and the only thing that will exist is Autobot X. So you see I have not in fact created another Autobot…"

Starscream began to smirk evilly as the realization dawned. "You have merely reintroduced a monster." He grinned wildly at the idea. As much as he loathed his leader, he had to admit the plan had merit. Not only would that human germ be eliminated, but potentially by his own Autobot friends!

Megatron cackled loudly. "Precisely Starscream. Precisely…"

* * *

Spike stared in open mouthed horror at the sight before him. Fire-trucks were everywhere, their sirens blaring loudly as yellow garbed firemen tried desperately to put out the flames, while others ran into the roaring inferno that had claimed a section of the building. One of those fire-trucks was none other then the Autobot Inferno, joining his human counterparts in putting out his destructive namesake. Crowds of people - the staff and patients that had been evacuated from the building watched helplessly as the place of healing smoldered and emanated smog.

He could see the Autobots, most of them in vehicle mode to transport the patients in need of the most care, forming an odd convoy in the direction of the St. Bartholomew Hospital, a less prestigious but non-the less adequate facility at the other side of Center City. Only two remained in robot mode; Optimus Prime could be seen directing the Autobots' rescue efforts, while Bumblebee was seen kneeling next to a sobbing Sparkplug Witwicky, the hysterical human sitting on the ground with his hands covering his face.

Even amidst all this carnage, Spike's main concern was his father. Snapping out of his funk he made his way over to the human and the Volkswagen beetle, his steps cautious and his voice frantic. "Dad! Bumblebee! What's happened? What's going on?!" The bot's sapphire optics were brimming over in worry. At the sound of his son's voice, Sparkplug's sobs became even more mournful, while Bumblebee turned his head to face his friend. The expression on his face was pained and… afraid.

"Bumblebee?" Spike pried, advancing towards the bug. "What's happened? Why are you looking at me like that?" Spike was getting scared now, even more so then when he saw the state of the hospital. His friend's lack of answers catapulted his fears into a panic. "Answer me!" he demanded. He whirled around like caffeine-addled hare at the feel of a gentle metal hand, almost lashing out against the intruder who had dared touch him with his nerves in the state they were. His ferocious, fearful expression died the instant he saw the owner of the hand. "Prime…" he whispered out in mild reverence as he was brought to his senses.

"Spike." The mellow voice of the Autobot leader filled Spike with a sense of calm… but an ever increasing sense of dread. "Megatron attacked the hospital, on his own." Spike's eyes widened in horror at this fact. Why would the Decepticon leader even bother with a place like this?

"Oh god…" He felt that queasy, sick feeling in the pit of his abdomen. When he was human, it usually meant that he was about to throw up. He wasn't sure if Autobots actually COULD throw up…

"Miraculously, no one was killed when Megatron demolished the area via his entry. However, there was ONE death caused by his hand…" At this, Prime's voice assumed the tone of someone trying to inform a friend of exceedingly unpleasant news. Spike felt a ball of fear well up in him. "…your body, Spike. He's completely obliterated your body… I'm sorry, Spike."

Prime's heartfelt apology fell on deaf audios. Spike stepped away, jerking his shoulder from Prime's hand. If the Autobot leader said anything, Spike couldn't hear it. The noise… the noise was returning. The noise wanted him to roar and scream and wreck… but he was too shocked, too horrified to do anything. He slowly stepped away from Prime, looking from the Autobot leader, to the beetle, to his father… his mouth opened and quivered, as though he was trying to speak. But no sounds came out; not even a choked scream of rage or horror. His body started shaking, he took two steps back, his trembling increasing exponentially. Without a word, without a sound… he turned and ran, straight into the forested area, creating a crescendo of torn roots and bark as he simply plowed through the trees. The noise, the noise, he had to escape it…

Sparkplug suddenly leapt to his feet. "Spike! Spike, come back, please…!" he cried out, tears glistening in the light. However, it was too late. His son… his _robotic_ son had vanished into the darkness of the woods, flights of birds swarming out of the verdant thickness in his wake. At this, Sparkplug fell to his knees and sobbed, once more burying his face in his hands as he let loose his sorrow for the world to see. Bumblebee now stood on his feet, but his head was lowered down in a darkened expression. His friend was now going through Primus knew what and he… he could do nothing to help him. He hated this, hated feeling so useless…

Prime sighed heavily, wanting nothing more then to send his men after the distraught… Autobot. Yes, he would now have to refer to Spike as an Autobot now, wouldn't he? Like so many times before in his life he found himself damning Megatron, and damning the Decepticons with him.

But, there were still humans that needed saving, and so the Matrix-Bearer turned his attentions on the evacuation efforts, silently vowing to himself and to Sparkplug that every effort would be made to FIND Spike. Before anything could happen to him, or the world around him.

* * *

Spike did not know how long it was that he had been running, nor did he care. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few millennia… he did not care. He did not care that he was demolishing trees and crushing animals underfoot, staining his metallic feet a gruesome shade of red. How could he care about such things when… when…

The noise returned, full blast. It was difficult to think of anything other then what he had become. He was a freak now, a mistake, and abomination. He should not exist… he should not be a metal monster, but a human of sixteen years! He… he'd had his entire life ahead of him! How could this happen? Why was this happening to him?

_I'm a monster, I'm a demon, I'm a freak, I'm a mutant! I should not be, I should not live why do I live, am I alive or am I in hell, why is this, what am I, how can I be AARRRRGGGHHH!!!! _

His mind held no answers; only the noise… by now it had reached a fever pitch, forcing Spike to stop. He bent over slightly, gritting his dental plates and clutching his head. A feral scream was trying to force its way from him, but he could not… he could not bring himself to make a noise, not even a grunt of pain. But the noise would not go… would not let him be. It demanded of him, yes it did. It wanted him to… to smash things. Crush them under his hands and simply squeeze them until they were no more… He could do it now. Why _shouldn't_ he?

But, somehow, he was able to ignore this. Somehow, he was able to regain lucidity enough that he could see he had reached the end of this forest. Ahead of him he saw a cave in the side of a steep mountain. He headed for it, drawn to it by some morbid part of him that simply wanted to be immersed in the comfort of the dark. The dark would at least hide him from the world. Hide the world from his…

Wretched...

Imperfect…

Form…

He was deep in the cave now, sitting down, hugging his knees to his chest and still trembling. For a while he simply sat there, staring at nothing as he tried hard to collect his thoughts. He tried to think things through logically. However, logic provided little solace, and soon the stark reality of what had happened to him crept upon his mind. For the first time since the news hit, he spoke. "Oh god…" his tone carried the horrible weight of realization, the terror at knowing that this was permanent; there was no going back. He was to be exiled from humanity forever. He buried his head into knees…

Transformers could not cry. They possessed no tear ducts, and did not display mourning or sorrow in the way most organic lifeforms did. This was true of Spike as well. However, if anyone had heard the sounds that were coming from the cave… they would not have guessed that it was crying without tears that they were hearing.

* * *

"Remind me again why Hound couldn't be doing this?" came the irritable voice of an irritated individual. Sunstreaker sneered in disdain as he and his compatriots walked through the forest. There were many things he liked about earth and, by that token, many things he disliked. Forests were one of those things that fell under the category of "dislike". Primus, he even preferred carrying those ill humans to that other hospital to forests…

Ironhide shook his head at Sunstreaker's petulant comment. "Because somehow, I doubt that Hound's talents are all that needed in this particular case…" He nodded his head at the unnatural clearing which he, the Lamborghini, and Bumblebee traveled down. Trees had been callously shoved aside and torn asunder as Spike had rampaged through them. His footprints indented in the dirt floor… As well as several animals who had been unfortunate enough to be in his way at the time. It was rather fortunate that Hound was not here; such destruction of the natural world would have been sparkbreaking for the gentle tracker.

Sunstreaker merely snorted. "You got a point there old man. It ain't exactly difficult to trace down the source of a path of unholy destruction…" he muttered sarcastically. "Primus, what's the big deal? So he's an Autobot now… I fail to see the problem." Sunstreaker shrugged, honestly wondering why Spike would react so badly to being a transformer. It was a step up in life, why hate it?

Ironhide ran a hand down his face in exasperation. "The big deal is that Spike ain't an Autobot by creation, and this ain't how he's lived his life. This is a pretty danged big change, and I somehow doubt he's all that thrilled about it," was the elder Autobots response. But he knew deep down that, despite the casualness of his comments, the golden Lamborghini was just as worried as Ironhide was over the Spike's condition. As was Bumblebee for that matter, and himself.

Bumblebee had been oddly quiet during this search, tuning out the petty arguments of the two larger 'bots as he trod along at the front, his expression more serious than anyone who knew the bug would have thought possible. He had much to be serious about; his friend was now in a state of mind that could be called questionable at the very best and packing a powerhouse of an Autobot body. He was a danger to himself and others… but most of all, Bumblebee was just plain worried for his friend. He didn't know what he'd do if anything happened to his little buddy.

He suddenly froze as they reached the edge of the forest. "Look!" he cried out, speaking for the first time during the trip and pointing wildly to a trail of footprints leading to a cave. Without another word he ran up to the cave entrance, ignoring the protests of his companions. "Spike?" he called in tentatively, his voice echoing in the depths. He turned on the headlights mounted on his chest, moving closer into the cave and illuminating it as he searched for his friend. "Spike? Spike, where are you?" he called out again, the worry very visible in his voice as he searched around. But still, no signs of Spike.

Despair fell over Bumblebee as it soon became clear; Spike HAD been here, but he wasn't around anymore. There were no footprints, only scorch marks made by foot mounted jet thrusters.

He was gone. Where too, no one could know, but the fact remained…

Spike was missing.


	3. Lost and Found

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Three: Lost and Found **

It had been three days since Spike had run away, and, in that time, the situation had deteriorated rapidly. Reports were now coming in of a mysterious robot coming out at night, stealing energy directly from the sources at the various power plants around Center City and the state of Oregon. Apparently, Spike had found out how to nourish himself on converted energy like a naturally made transformer would and was putting this newfound ability of his to good use keeping himself alive. All the while evading and avoiding his former Autobot friends as they came after him.

Optimus Prime suppressed a sigh as he traveled down the halls of Ark. Recent days weighed heavily on his shoulders. At some level he blamed himself, like he always did when something went wrong. He should have known Megatron would not leave well enough alone. He should have left someone to guard the hospital in case the slag-maker decided to lash out in the event of his defeat. But, as was per usual for the oft-beleaguered commander, those events were in the past and entirely out of his hands at this point.

He almost growled to himself at the thought of Megatron. Doubtlessly the madmech was having a grand old laugh, assuming he kept up with the news. That Spike was now more a Decepticon in his actions… no, he would not think of it like that. Despite the thefts, Spike was not like the Decepticons. He was a scared, confused child whom the hand of fate had delivered the cruelest blow. He was just trying to keep himself alive, and that was ALL that he was doing. There was none of the gratuitous violence typical of Decepticon raids in Spike's work. Thank Primus for small favors.

Prime had almost passed his destination, skidding to a halt when it dawned on him that he was walking down the hallways for a reason. He turned and met with the sight of two mechs currently monitoring Teletraan-1, Prowl and Jazz. The strategist and the saboteur were both monitoring the hyper-powerful Ark main computer, using Skyspy for any hint of Spike's whereabouts. As if by some perverse miracle, the normally nigh-omniscient satellite had drawn little success in locating nothing of the poor, disjointed once-human. Still, it didn't hurt to ask…

"Prowl, Jazz. Any updates on Spike?" Optimus almost sounded tired as he addressed his officers. So far there had been nothing but bad news (or rather, NO news) concerning Spike. Prowl simply shook his head in sadness.

"Nothing, Prime,. Nothing at all. No energy raids, no sightings… nothing." Okay, so maybe it did hurt to ask. Prime groaned in frustration.

"I see…" he sighed out, resisting the urge to massage the sudden ache that had developed at the bridge of his olfactory array, between his optics.

"I ain't normally the one to take the pessimist view of things, but the way it's been goin' it looks like the once-little dude has vanished off the face of the earth." Jazz's voice somehow always maintained its upbeat undertone, even when the mech himself was feeling the blues (no pun intended). Prime's body did not sag, did not flinch, nor did it give any indication to Prime's feelings on the matter.

In retrospect, it wasn't really necessary for his body to do anything to tell others his feelings on the matter. Adding to the stress of locating the rogue 'bot, there was still the Decepticons to contend with. Prime _wanted_ to devote as much time as he could to the search, but the Decepticons just would not relent. "We must not give up. Keep up the search, and keep me updated on any developments, any at all."

It was at this point that Bumblebee made his entrance. Out of all the 'bots on Ark, Bumblebee had been closest to Spike, and, because of that friendship, had also been the most relentless in the search. He was pushing himself, being the first to leave and the last to return. Such devotion was commendable, but the Bug was starting to run the risks of exhaustion.

"Alright Prime, I'm up and ready. Who'll be coming on the search this time?" The mini's tone was confident, and it was obvious that he was prepared to begin the hunt anew. This was why it pained Prime that he would have to inform the master spy of a certain detail regarding this particular search.

"Cliffjumper, Hound, Trailbreaker, and Windcharger will be going after him this time, Bumblebee…" Optimus spoke in diplomatic tones, trying to subtly convey that this time it would be different. Smart as he was, this was unfortunately lost on the saboteur. He nodded seriously and began to head out of the main room.

"Great, just tell me when we get started and I'll-"

"You're not going this time, Bumblebee." Prime's voice was stern but gentle, but he knew that this was not going to end well. Bumblebee halted with a sudden jerk, turning his head around to face his leader, not entirely sure he had heard right.

"I…I'm not going?" The confusion was deep in his features, both physical and vocal.

"No. You've been pushing yourself hard, Bumblebee. Too hard. Your desire to find Spike is admirable, but you've been neglecting yourself. I'm going to have to order you to stay here and allow Ratchet to repair the damage your recent actions has inflicted upon you." Prime maintained the diplomatic tone, privately pained that he had to do this to the Volkswagen.

Bumblebee recoiled as if he had been slapped across the face. "But… but I have to! Spike is my friend, I can't just-!"

A wave of Prime's hand silenced his protest. "I have made up my mind on the matter, Bumblebee. I know you want to find Spike, we all do, but-"

"ALERT," rang out the voice of Teletraan-1, cutting Optimus off mid-speech. Surprised to hear the voice of the computer, Optimus' head swerved in direction of the aforementioned techno wonder. Prowl and Jazz, just as absorbed with the argument as the actual participants had been, nearly jumped out of their armor at the sound of the once inactive master system. They turned around and manned their stations at the console, listening in as Teletraan continued. "AUTOBOT SPIKE DETECTED, PRESENT TRAJECTORY ESTIMATES THAT HE WILL ARRIVE AT A LOCAL HYDROELECTRIC PLANT WITHIN A MAXIMUM TIME LIMIT OF THREE MINUTES." As it spoke, Teletraan's screens displayed a nighttime view of a bulky mechanoid flying through the skies… Spike was on the move, and this time they were ready.

"Excellent work, Teletraan," Prime nodded his appreciation, even if it was wasted on the nonsentient computer. The Autobot leader turned his attention to back to Bumblebee, ready to continue his talk… only to find an empty space. "Bumblebee? Where did he- oh no…" the realization dawned. He planted his face into a palm, shaking his head… until, suddenly, he was struck with a brilliant thought. Prowl in the meantime sent his arm to his mouth, activating the general comm frequency.

"Attention all available Autobots, assemble to the central hub immediately we-"

"Belay that order Prowl." Prime stated suddenly, standing up straight. Prowl raised the ridge of an optic, but did as his commander asked of him.

"Attention Autobots; false alarm. Resume your duties immediately." With that, the panel on his arm containing his communicator clamped shut. Prowl eyed his leader quizzically. "Sir. Might I ask why you just allowed Bumblebee to go after Spike, while ordering me to not let the others in on this?"

"Yeah Prime," Jazz piped up. "Didn't you just tell the little guy NOT to go after Spike?" He was just as confused as his friend at their leader's contrary actions. Prime turned around to face his subordinates, the familiar twinkle of a plan working its way into his optics.

"It has just occurred to me that sending in a team of Autobots would only serve to agitate Spike further, given the possible state of his mind at this point. Bumblebee is Spike's best friend, and I think that if anyone could convince him to return to Ark peacefully, it would be him. I would have had Sparkplug accompany Bumblebee, but as you both well know he hasn't been… well, as of late."

A moment of silence as the frowns graced the faces of every mech in the room. Sparkplug had not been out of his house in days, and he hadn't been answering any phone calls. Those Autobots who were close to the man were concerned to say the least.

Snapping himself out of the momentary thoughts about Sparkplug, Prime continued his explanation. "I do believe that Bumblebee will be able to calm Spike down, make him listen to reason. He has to…" It was fairly obvious that Prime's hope of bringing Spike in peacefully rested on the shoulders of the little yellow bug. Prowl nodded in comprehension of the thought process, while Jazz gave a reassuring smile.

"Hey, don't sweat it boss man. Like you said, if anyone can get Spike to listen, it'll be the Bee."

* * *

Bronson & Gilliam Amalgamated Hydroelectric Plant was a very fortunate place indeed. By some strange miracle of fate, it had been overlooked by the Decepticons in their many raids for energy. While their competitors met with wreckage, ruin, and theft at the hands of the otherworldly invaders, Bronson & Gilliam had gone on blissfully unmolested in the year since the metal beasties made their presence felt on earth.

By this point, both the employers and employers of the prosperous energy company had gotten… complacent, shall we say. Initially there was a feeling of impending doom; in those early days, everyone at the plant lived in mortal fear of seeing those now infamous jets heading their way. But, since the predicted end of the company via giant transforming robots never came, the company people got… lazy, for lack of a better word. After all, the end had been nigh, but it never happened. And at the rate things were going, it seemed that Bronson & Gilliam had flown under the literal and figurative radar of the Decepticons. All was right in the universe.

So needless to say, when a giant robot DID come a knocking it was something of a shock.

Spike loathed himself for this, but he had no choice. It was nighttime, the guards were lax; lax enough to not notice the huge, piecemeal metal monstrosity that had come skulking into the night, scaling the barb wired chain link fence to get to the electro-generators contained therein. Like the many weapons that laced his frame, Spike's knowledge of how to energize himself came naturally.

From the upper left corner of his mismatched chassis he unlatched a panel and drew forth a power cord with his sole hand. Letting the cable hang limp out of him, Spike's hand went after the power line at the base of the generator and roughly removed it. A section of Center City was now bereft of power, but Spike was desperate. This body needed energy even worse then a human needed food… he forced his own energizer cable in, wincing in pain as the largely Cybertronnian plug was shoved into a mostly incompatible socket. The wave of rejuvenation he felt overrode the pain; along with the horrible realization that he had become one of those metallic vultures that had been responsible for his current predicament.

But it had also allowed him a brief moment of introspection. He knew the Autobots were his friends; that they would do all in their power to help him during this crisis. And yet… and yet… no, he could not. He could not let them near him. He could not allow them to risk their lives by just being within arm's reach. That buzzing had become constant in recent days, taunting and tantalizing him with dark desires and violent urges.

For instance, it insisted that rather than use stealth and relative caution to gain nourishment, he should merely use his size and power to force his way in and simply take all that he could. After all, it was not like those puny humans could stop him, right?

But, whenever the buzzing steered his mind in that direction, Spike found his willpower violently lash out and seize control again. He was human… no matter what he was at the present he would remain a human in spirit at the very least. He was not victimizing his people; he was doing what was necessary. Spike told himself this over and over; it made it easier for him to go through with his actions.

He suddenly found himself bathed in light; he turned his body around in a panic. "Spike!" rang out a familiar, deeply concerned voice. His optics adjusting to the light, Spike could see the distinct form of a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. They'd found him… blast them, they found him!

He tore the cable from the generator, sparks flying as it violently recoiled back into his form, snapping the hatch of its container shut upon entry. With a snarl, Spike activated the thrusters in his feet and took to the skies, flying over Bumblebee and heading down the roads, blindly following the directions of the noise. The noise, the noise knew, the noise knew what he should do…

"Spike, wait!" Bumblebee cried out, backing up, turning and following his airborne friend. _Primus, not this again… _Bumblebee thought to himself in despair, readying himself for the possible event of his friend attacking him. Five seconds down the road, his intuition proved correct as Spike trained his gun hand on the bug, firing wildly and taking out bits of the road as his distraught friend deftly evaded his attacks.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" Spike turned his head to shriek down at Bumblebee, giving one last shot before focusing on getting away. Like all the others, Bumblebee avoided that one beautifully.

"Spike, please, I just wanna talk! Please, don't do this…" Bumblebee was begging now, the pleading edge of his voice now caked with pain. At hearing that, Spike's face softened… the noise wanted him to do more, to turn the yellow annoyance into a scrap metal flapjack, and hey, it sounded like a good idea. But, as he heard the bug's pleas, the more human side of Spike began to surface. Soon, the noise became quieter and quieter, and Spike was allowed to make his own decision this time. Spotting a dirt road leading into some nice, thick woods he made a sharp turn at them, and began to descend to the ground, indicating he did actually want to talk. Bumblebee gave an audible sigh in relief as he made the turn, heading into the woods after Spike.

As Spike landed and stumbled into the woods some, Bumblebee could not help but wince at the sight of his body. It was… it was… horrible, just horrible. Mismatched, discarded parts just barely functioning in tandem to give Spike a semblance of life. He looked… unnatural. _You just stow that line of thinking little mister! _Bumblebee scolded to himself, a wave of disgust hitting him for having even thought of his friend in such terms. Spike needed help, not alienation… not any more then he already had, at least.

Transforming himself into robot mode, the relatively minute Bumblebee approached the hulking monster of a mech that had formerly been Spike Witwicky. "Spike, I…" he began, but soon found himself leaping back in shock as Spike turned around, scowling in an almost animalistic fury, optics blazing an azure hued flame.

"WHY DID YOU COME AFTER ME?!?!" Spike demanded, voice as big and menacing as thunder as he roared at his friend. Bumblebee, for a moment shocked, took on a determined look and stance as he dared to step closer to the massive mech.

"I came after you because I'm your friend, that's why!" The bug shot back angrily. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? How worried we've all been?" Bumblebee demanded of his friend.

"Worried about me…" Spike sneered down at the Autobot. "How in the HELL could you possibly be worried about a misshapen mistake like me!?" He roared, punching a tree down to get the point across. Bumblebee however would not be deterred, and his optics narrowed in anger.

"Spike, what happened to you was bad, I know this… but this is NOT the way you deal with it!" Bumblebee snapped back. "Look at you! You're acting like a-!"

"DO. NOT. SAY. THAT. WORD!!!!" Spike sounded downright homicidal at this point, to the extent that even Bumblebee took a step back, his optics widening a little. "Don't you see? Don't you get it? I'm a MONSTER, Bumblebee! I'm a freak, a mistake, an… an abomination! I hear a noise, always this noise… it tells me to hurt, to maim, to take! You… you cannot possibly want to save… THIS!" He gestured to his body, his tone having gone from heated to utterly miserable in an instant.

"I'm just a human, Bee. Despite the body, I'm a human and… and I can't deal with this. With this body…" Spike lowered his head, optics dimming. "I'm just a twisted, metallic Frankenstein monster who hears voices in his head… life as I know it is officially over. Why drag you and the others down with me?"

Bumblebee was silent for a moment. Then, in a voice as calm and collected as Prowl's on any day of the week, he spoke. "What about Sparkplug? What about your father?" he asked, looking at Spike intently. The huge makeshift transformer's head snapped to attention, optics blazing.

"Dad?" Spike asked out loud. In all the rage and confusion he had been feeling in recent days, the subject of his father hadn't come up. He had not considered his father… he had not considered how much this might be hurting him, during his mad scrambles for energy and his battles with the noise…

"Your dad is not well, Spike," Bumblebee continued. "He hasn't been out of his house since you changed, he won't answer any calls… he's become a shut-in."

Spike's optics widened. "Oh no…" he said in despair, slipping onto his knees and putting his hands to his head in utter and complete horror. "I… I was so caught up in what happened to me… so concerned about being viewed as a monster… I never thought…"

"About Sparkplug…" Bumblebee finished for him sadly. He made his way over to the big mech, putting a hand to his knee for comfort. "He needs you, Spike. He needs you badly."

Spike looked down at Bumblebee, letting his hands lie limp at his sides. For a moment, he stared intently down at the bug. Then… "I've screwed up big time, huh Bee?" he asked simply, sadness in his voice. Bumblebee nodded in confirmation.

"Oh yeah. Asides from the property damages and thefts, there's still your father. Please Spike," he extended a hand to his friend, "Come with me, back to Ark. Back to your friends. We cannot give you back your life as a human, but maybe we can ease you into life as an Autobot…"

Spike gazed at the hand, not saying anything for a while. He then sighed heavily, and took the tiny hand into his own massive one. "I don't really know what I am… but I'll try and make up for what I've done, somehow. I swear it." Spike stated in utter seriousness as he awkwardly shook Bumblebee's hand.

"Prime will find a way for you to make amends Spike, I promise you that much." Bumblebee nodded as he shook hands, withdrawing his hand he stepped back. Spike regarded the yellow mech for a moment.

"Bumblebee?" he asked, to which the mini gazed back at him quizzically.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"Don't mention it," Bumblebee chuckled warmly. He transformed into vehicle mode, backing up and turning around the corner so that he was facing down the dirt road, back to Ark. "Come on, let's go home." Spike suppressed a cringe at the word.

"Yeah… home…" Spike muttered somewhat numbly, standing up then taking to the air and following Bumblebee close as the Volkswagen took off for the aforementioned starship. That was not home, not to Spike… but he supposed he would have to get used to the idea of the Ark being his home now.

During the trip back, Spike was allowed time to think. The noise was quiet, oddly quiet given how much in control it had been earlier. For now, Spike had more important things on his mind. It was not the Autobots, nor the damages he had wrought which concerned him the most, which dominated his thoughts as he flew through the nighttime sky. No, what concerned him most…

… was how in heaven's name he would ever get his father to forgive him.


	4. Reconciliation

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Four: Reconciliation **

To say that recent events had not been kind to Irving "Sparkplug" Witwicky would have been an understatement in the extreme. Since the obliteration of his son's body at the hands of Megatron, Sparkplug had entered a deep, abiding depression. When the news of his wayward son's energy thefts reached his ears, it only made things worse…

Sparkplug stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, having done so since he awoke roughly an hour ago. He rarely left his bed since that… awful day, only getting out of his room to perform the necessary functions of his body, and for the occasional meal and bit of water; despite how he was feeling as of late, Sparkplug had no desire to die. Not yet, anyway…

Dying, death… somehow thoughts of these things had begun to worm their way into Sparkplug's mind as of late. And always in relation to his son; or was it former son now? His human body was gone forever, yet Spike still technically lived on in that mechanoid monstrosity built by Sparkplug's own two hands. But was it really life? That was the question, and there were no comfortable answers in sight. None that Sparkplug could really think of.

He snorted in disgust as his facial features twisting from the ennui laden stare into bitter scowl as he turned in the bed, taking his covers in hand and tightening them around his frame. As had practically become ritual, his thoughts now ran in cycles. First he would focus on the plight of his son. And now came… the Transformers.

Damn them. Damn them for taking away his boy! He trusted the Autobots with his son's safety… and they failed! How could they let his son, a boy of sixteen anywhere near their blasted fights?! Evil, inhuman metal monsters…

_But… no, that ain't right at all… _Sparkplug's weary, rational side would inform him. And despite all the hatred and anger the middle-aged man felt, the raw fury brought on by a despairing parent looking for someone, anyone to blame… he would soften and see things in a more accurate light. _You did this to him, Sparkplug old boy. You're the one who allowed him near the Autobots… what in god's name were you thinking anyway?! That Spike would somehow be safe in a battle between twenty-foot-tall robots?! Your irresponsibility got Spike hurt… your arrogance caused him to be trapped in that body. Face facts the facts Irving; you've failed. Both as a father, and in your promise to Veronica…_

Veronica. His late, great wife…

He thought back to the day Spike had been born. How he held the fragile new life in his hands, his one and only son. There had been… complications in the birthing process. Veronica had not been the hardiest of woman to begin with, but the strain of bringing Spike into the world… it had been too much for her to bear. He could still see that day, the greatest and most tragic of his life. Him holding his newborn son in his arms, cradling the infant lovingly; showing their child to Veronica. Her smile, it was weak, but in it she held all the adoration she could for the child. And her words to spoken to him?

"_Take good care of him, Sparky…" _

Those words had been spoken, perhaps due to some innate knowledge that her time was short. For after she had her say, she began to drift. He recalled how the doctors scrambled around her, desperate in their attempts to revive her. He had stood, shocked and confused, numbly allowing a nurse to lead him out as the doctors continued their bid to save Veronica. But somehow, deep in his gut, Sparkplug knew she was not coming back. In that knowledge, he gazed down at the strangely quiet child in his arm, and spoke out a solemn vow.

"_I promise… I'll take care of you, and protect you. I will do your mother proud."_

And for fifteen years straight he had made good with his vow. William (soon earning the nickname Spike, through circumstances no one recalled) quickly grew into a hard working lad in the vein of his father before him. Veronica would have been so proud of him…

But now, it was no more. His son was gone, his humanity robbed by the petty antics of a crazed tyrant. What existed now… was it really his son? Or just an imitation…?

Suddenly, as if it that were possible, Sparkplug's scowl intensified. _What in god's name am I doing?! Spike is my son, and always will be my son, no matter what form he wears! _It was with this realization that another came; this laying about in the house, wasting away… it had to stop. He somehow knew that the Autobots were doing all they could for Spike, while he himself had decided to lay around moping. It was disgraceful of him to even contemplate giving up like this.

With a groan, he sat up in his bed and placed his feet to the sides, onto the ground. The sudden rush of being in a position other then sleeping manifested itself in the form of a blitzing headache. He buried his head in his hands as he tried to get his thoughts straight. It was roughly four seconds after this that there was a knock at the door.

Normally, Sparkplug would have ignored it. Heaven knows that he had been ignoring contact with the outside world for days now. But fortunately for whoever was knocking, Sparkplug had just decided to do away with hiding from the world. Standing up shakily he headed for the closet, opening it up and fumbling around for his bathrobe; he may have been out of it, but no way was he going to get the door in his boxers and undershirt!

The knocking could be heard again, this time more forceful. Sparkplug grumbled a little as he hastily donned his robe.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming!" he croaked out irritably, mentally cringing at the sound of his own voice. He sounded ill, and he'd bet everything he owned that his appearance matched his voice. Spending three to four days inside without bathing or feeding properly tended to do that to a man.

He strode out of his room, through the halls and finally making his way to the door. It was probably the Autobots or something….

* * *

It was times like this that Spike was really, REALLY happy that his house wasn't located in the town or even in the city, being a somewhat lonely countryside cottage. As a small child he had often resented his father for making him live in the humble, out-of-the-way house, a fair distance from most neighborhoods and any children his age.

However, now in the body of an Autobot, and being forced to lean forward on his hands and knees, Spike was more thankful then he had thought possible that there was no one to see him in this somewhat undignified pose. He looked much like a large child trying to peek through the door of a dollhouse. Given Spike's size compared to what used to be his home, it was not all that an inaccurate comparison.

He had already tapped the door with the joint of his forefinger, and had heard his father's unusually hoarse sounding voice. That meant the elder Witwicky was now at least ANSWERING people… but as to what state he was in, Spike was almost frightened to find out. In nervous anticipation he awaited. At the sound of a lock coming undone, the door swung open to reveal a somewhat emaciated looking Sparkplug, clad in a red bathrobe.

"Alright pal, what do you-" The irritated beginnings of a diatribe died in Sparkplug's throat upon gazing on the giant metallic face that now belonged to his Son, his face now somewhat stunned. Spike winced a little at the sight of Sparkplug… he did not look healthy, not one bit.

"Erm, hello dad…" Spike was able to manage, not entirely sure of what to say to his father. His actions as of late had been less then stellar, and Spike was certain that his father would have nothing to do with him. It was for those reasons that Spike found himself shocked when his father charged into him and hugged his chin.

"SPIKE! Oh son, I was so worried…" Sparkplug nuzzled his head against the metal facial part, overcome with relief that his son was unharmed. He pulled back; looking over the metal giant he was now calling his son. "Are you alright? It's been days, son. And the news…"

Spike's face looked down slightly, shame more than evident across his features. "The news… dad, I-I went off the deep end there for a while." His face returned to look his father in the eye, man to robot. "And I'm sorry! I'm sorry for running off, I'm sorry for stealing, I'm sorry for making you worry-"

"Spike!" Sparkplug yelled out, holding a hand up to halt his son's nonstop apologies. "Son, I know what's been going on," Sparkplug sighed out, now looking at in his son's curious optics. "I can't say that I'm all that proud of your actions as of late." Sparkplug was frowning now, but soon that softened into a look that was almost… ashamed. "But then, I haven't exactly been too proud of MY actions either…"

"What?" Now it was Spike's turn to look stunned. "Dad, what are talking about? I'M the one who's been committing crimes left and right!" Incredulity laced the lad's voice.

"And I'm the one who's been neglecting my responsibilities!" Sparkplug shot back. "When you needed me the most I shut myself in, away from the world and my troubles! I'm betting the Autobots have done more for you then I did, and I'm your goddamn father!" Spike recoiled slightly, but pulled back in, curious as to what his father had to say. "While I was wasting myself in bed, Bumblebee was probably out there all those nights, searching high and low for you. Me? What did I do?" he chuckled darkly "I stayed in bed and blamed the Autobots…"

"Dad… I don't blame you for getting depressed…" Spike said gently. "I mean, cripes, the way I've been acting hasn't really been all that good, ya know…"

"We both screwed up." Sparkplug nodded, "We… well, we were scared. I thought I'd lost my son and you… I don't even _know _what's been going on in your mind as of late. Not sure if I wanna know, to be honest." Sparkplug then patted his son's cheek, "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for sinking into self-pity like that, when I shoulda been helping the bots find you and talk some sense into you."

Spike nodded. "And I'm sorry for running off and driving you to do that stuff. Even?"

Sparkplug nodded with a smile. "Even, Son." Then with a yawn he idly looked side to side, scratching a flank. Spike in the meantime put a fist to his mouth and gave an awkward cough. Totally artificial, since Autobots technically couldn't cough.

"Well, I better get going. I'm gonna be living up at Ark now…" Spike informed his father as he stood up. He took a look at the house, the home that had been his for sixteen years. Sixteen years of happy memories with his father… using the computers of his new brain, he took in every last detail of the old house, right down to the nails that held it together. He would miss that house…

"Yeah, sounds good. I'd join you, but ah," Sparkplug took a whiff of the air around him, "I'm a little less then presentable at the moment."

"I was being polite about it…" Spike admitted, rubbing his hand behind his head, a nervous grimace now gracing his face. Sparkplug raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it go, chuckling lightly.

"Oh, whatever. Go on, I'll be seeing you soon." Sparkplug waved off the lad with his hand and turned around, heading back into his home with the intent of taking a shower.

Spike grinned at his father, overjoyed at having made amends with his father. Almost whooping with joy he took to the air and made a beeline for Ark. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the noise was not present, at least at the moment. Maybe it was simply lying in wait for the right moment to bombard Spike with its filth and its lies ushered in through a haze of cacophonous bedlam. Maybe out of some respect for the idea of father and son forgiving each other, it decided to simply butt out, if only for this one time. Whatever the reason, Spike was more then happy for it.

_That went better then I thought it would, _Spike said to himself as he flew. _I really thought he'd disown me… heh, there I go again, thinking the worst out of people. And my own father… blech! I'll be happy once ALL the glitches in my mind are taken care of, for sure. I don't know how much more of that damn noise I can take! _

With that in mind, Spike suddenly felt a sense of trepidation. By some miracle Prime had decided to go not to punish Spike too harshly when Bumblebee brought him back to Ark, under the excuse that Spike was not mentally sound at the time. It was not a very popular decision with some of the more… feisty mechs, to put it mildly.

However, that was not the cause of Spike's near fear, oddly enough. The reason for his anxiousness lay not in the Ark's unhappy inhabitants, but rather what was going to happen to Spike once he got there. It was silly really, given recent events. After what had happened, you would think he would not be so frightened by the idea. Yet, here he was, thinking of ways to prolong his flight back unnecessarily. He had already experienced a day of waking up in a stranger's body; he was not sure if he could do so again.

Because once he returned to Ark, work would begin almost immediately on remaking his distorted form.

When he got back to Ark, he was going to be repaired.

He was going to be upgraded.


	5. Upgrade

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Five: Upgrade **

"I don't like it."

Those words were spoken by none other then Brawn. The rough-edged minibot having been in a state of agitation since Spike's return. Those around him (some would argue to their misfortune) tried to block out the sound of his voice, but to no avail. The group consisted of the aforementioned agitated mini, an apathetic-looking Sunstreaker and a now curious Hound. The Lamborghini and the Jeep had been standing around, having an idle conversation over the subject of weather (consisting mostly of Hound trying to convince the Sunstreaker that rain _wasn't _doing anything bad to his enamel), when the headstrong Autobot had stormed in and taken up pacing. The Lambo-Jeep duo had been perplexed and tried to keep up their conversation, up until Brawn's sudden proclamation.

"Don't like what, Brawn?" Hound dared to ask, very curious as to what exactly had upset the powerful mini so, while Sunstreaker held back and decided to play the role of observer… for now.

"Don't give me that slag! You know what this is about!" Brawn twirled on Hound, pointing an accusing finger. The jeep back off a little, optics wide in confusion.

"Erm… no Brawn, I don't know what this is about…" Hound spoke carefully, trying hard not rile the tiny but strong warrior up. "But if you would be so kind as to enlighten me…"

"OH, COME ON!" Brawn bellowed. "Isn't it obvious!? It's _him_ being here that's driving me nuts!" Hound still looked confused…. But then recognition dawned, as there was only one person now residing at Ark that could be the cause of any news at this point.

"Spike?" Hound's face was a picture of incredulity. "Brawn, Spike is our friend, why would he-?"

"He's getting off easy, that's why!" Brawn snapped. It was at this point that Sunstreaker displayed an actual interest in the conversation, in the form of raising an eyeridge and looking down at the perturbed Brawn. Still, he said nothing, while, in contrast, Brawn continued his rant.

"He disappears for days, steals from his own people like a slagging Decepticon, and even attacks Bumblebee. So what does Prime do when he gets back? 'I understand that you were under pressure at the time, Spike. Your actions were not necessarily your own'. It's a slap on the wrist, that's what it is!" Brawn suddenly slammed his fist into an open palm with a loud CLANG. However, Hound simply sighed in exasperation at the mini's explanation.

"Look, Brawn. Spike has been through a lot in recent days, alright? I mean… Primus, how would YOU deal with being permanently altered into another species? One almost totally different from you own I might add?" Hound had his hands on his hips and a rather deep frown on his face. Brawn glared back defiantly, but it was clear that the message had gotten through to the proverbially thick-skulled mechanism. He cast a glare to the ground and then sighed in defeat, his rough face softening.

"Okay, okay… you win. It's just…" he sighed again and shook his head. "It's just…aw slaggit I don't know. It just gets to me that he's getting off so easy… but yeah, you're right. I mean… Primus, it's just so _weird._" Brawn had been deeply troubled by the idea of Spike now being an Autobot; the normally uncomplicated mech found himself having deep thoughts concerning the newfound nature of the Autobots human ally. Thoughts that yielded no concrete answers.

"Erm… sorry if that I've pestered you too. I'm just… confused more than anything." And, with that, Brawn headed down the hall and to his quarters, trying to get his thoughts together. Hound then looked at Sunstreaker, who throughout the exchange of words had remained totally impassive.

"So then… what's your take on the situation?" Hound asked the gold warrior, more out of curiosity then anything else. Possibly a morbid curiosity, at that. "Spill it; I just know you've got an opinion on this." At the pry, Sunstreaker just barely turned his head to face the Jeep.

"If you must know, my only real concern is when he's going to get that hideous form of his fixed." Hound's face deadpanned at this comment, while Sunstreaker carried on. "I mean really… looking at him frightens me, honest and truly. He's just so… so…" Sunstreaker shuddered. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah…" Hound drawled, wondering why he had been so shocked that this of all things had been the absurdly vain soldier's sole sore spot concerning Spike. "Well, don't you worry your head off, 'Streaker." Hound soothed, though there was a feint trace of mocking in his voice. "Even as we speak, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor are making the preparations to get Spike a brand new spanking form. You won't have to look at his icky 'ol body anymore."

Sunstreaker missed the sarcasm and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Primus, I was honestly considering gouging my optics out…"

* * *

"Okay, how about this one?" Wheeljack pointed at the vehicle displayed in the database. Ratchet shook his head.

"No, I don't think it will quite cut it. His frame is rather… bulky." The medic stated. He looked over another one of the vehicles. "Hmm, this one might work…" he offered. Wheeljack snorted in derision at his choice.

"Are you kidding me? THAT old clunker'd be the end of him." Wheeljack crossed his arms over his chassis, glaring at the offered form as though it were an insult to his existence. Ratchet facepalmed, scratching his facial plate slightly in exasperation as he drew his hand down.

"Okay, okay, jeeze. Fricken' picky about this aren't ya…" Ratchet groaned. Wheeljack was on the verge of offering his retort, when everyone's favorite walking encyclopedia decided to offer his own two cents.

"Gentleman, please. There is no need for this aggravating aggression. I believe I may have located the precise form suitable for young master Witwicky's physical needs." The two mechs turned their heads to face Perceptor, curious as to what the master scientist had in mind. With a press of a button, yet another vehicle appeared on screen. Ratchet smiled and nodded, while Wheeljack simply whistled. Perceptor smiled, pleased that his choice had met with approval. "Yes, I predicted that would be your reaction. Might I make another suggestion?"

"Shoot." The two said simultaneously, glancing at each other in momentary shock before returning their attentions to Perceptor.

"It would seem prudent that given Spike's flight capabilities that we give him an additional altmode, this one a flyer." Perceptor continued, drawing satisfaction from his comrade's continued nods of approval.

"Heh, smart move there Percy," Wheeljack grinned at the furrowing of Perceptor's brow, induced by the mad scientist's use of the somewhat detested nickname of "Percy". "Not to mention I've been meaning to find a way to counter the Decepticreeps own Triplechangers since Springer and Sandstorm are busy off-world and all."

Perceptor nodded in agreement, "My precise thoughts exactly, Wheeljack. And I've just the model of aircraft in mind for Spike's usage." Yet again he pressed a button on the computer, its screen displaying yet another vehicle for the three Ark engineering experts. Ratchet grinned at the sight.

"Perc, you're a genius; anyone ever tell you that?" the medic chuckled out, giving a pat on the back for Perceptor. The scientist himself said nothing, merely giving a humble bow of his head and a tiny smile. Wheeljack in the meantime logged in the chosen forms.

"So then, we all set?"

"That we are, my friend." Ratchet replied, beginning to prepare the tools while Perceptor headed over to the materials locker. The Lancia's headlights brightened with the Wheeljack's smile.

"All right! I'll go tell Spike that we're about to begin." With that he headed for the main door, where an anxious Spike Witwicky would be pleased to hear that things could finally get started.

* * *

Spike was scared, to say the least. The mismatched, mock-up of an Autobot had been anticipating this as much as he had dreaded it. Last time he had been in here, he had awoken to an entirely new body, his life obliterated and his head muddled by a demonic noise. Now he was ready to undergo a modification that would truly make him a transformer, rather than the freakish metal giant that he was. He would once again enter the realm of the unconscious, and wake up changed forever…

He had decided to delegate the duty of finding a suitable alternate mode for him to the trio who even now made preparations for his operation. He trusted Wheeljack, Perceptor and Ratchet to find him a form, and he himself had far too much on his mind to really concentrate seriously on the task. Bizarrely enough, he felt an odd calm come about him as he stared up into the lighting fixtures of the Ark's science bay. And that calm allowed him to consider a certain loose end, one that he was not so sure that could be taken care of by the mere remodeling of his form. He turned his head towards the nearest of the Autobot trio, Ratchet meeting his gaze.

"Hey Ratchet?" Spike called out to the medic, his voice uneasy.

"Yeah Spike?" Ratchet ceased his movements and looked down at his patient.

"Ratchet, there's something I want you to check up one, while I'm asleep… offline. Since I got this body, I've heard this… noise in my head. It… it speaks to me, fills me with rage and makes me do bad things. I know it sounds crazy, but I-"

"Spike," Ratchet raised a hand, silencing the young mech, "I already know about it. After your first day you mentioned voices in your head. I along with Wheeljack think that it might be possible that, somehow, Autobot X possessed a kind of primitive core consciousness; a prototypical thinking mind. We believe that this 'noise' you're talking about might be that original consciousness trying to exert influence over its body through you. Don't worry, we're gonna take care of it. Just relax, and let us do our job…"

Spike's head resumed staring at the ceiling, not entirely sure if he should have been comforted by the medics words or not.

_Does this mean I'm some sort of schizophrenic? Besides being a big freak, I'm also a head case? Wait, why should I be surprised? That actually makes a lotta sense, come to think of it…_

"Okay Spike, everything is in prepared. Ya ready to start?" Wheeljack now stood beside Spike's berth, holding a recharge inducer in his hand. Spike started to shake slightly.

"No… yes, yes I am." Spike sighed out, shuttering his optics shut. "Let's get this over with…"

Wheeljack nodded, and pressed the inducer against a receiving port located on Spike's neck. Instantly he was out cold, and the three Autobots began to circle his berth, tools ready.

"Okay fellas, let's get started." Wheeljack stated, lowering a power-cutter to Spike's malformed chassis…

* * *

_The first thing Spike noticed about this place was that it was dark, yet he could see perfectly. All around him was an inky blackness akin to midnight on a cloudy night, yet he could see… the ground. Yes, there was ground, he was walking on it wasn't he? Further observation of the ground revealed it to be orange metals, completely identical to Ark's own floor. Yet only so much of it could be seen, a private illumination surrounding his person and giving the floor its substance. Otherwise, there was nothing here save for an inky, endless void. _

_Wherever here was._

"_Hello?" He dared to call out, even using his hand as an impromptu amplifier… only to discover in shock that his hand was changed. It was human! He put both hands before his face, gaping in utter astonishment. He put them to his face, feeling flesh against flesh as the familiar features began to mold themselves against his hand. Then it began to sink in…_

"_I'm human…" he said out loud in an awed, not believing it. Them his face broke out into a wide grin. "I'M HUMAN!" he crowed in triumph, laughing gaily and leaping about, doing a little jig. Even if it may have only been in this void, he was at least human for a little while longer. It was then, in the midst of his triumph, that he heard it._

_The Noise. _

_He froze instantly, eyes widening and looking about as he heard the feint, familiar sounds emanating from all around. "No…" he whispered out in horror. It was like the sound make by a swarm of locusts against a television static backdrop. It got closer and louder, Spike dropped to his knees and put his hands over his ears as the pain of the Noise swept through his very brain. And then it spoke…_

"'_Bout time you got here Witwicky…" It was… alien, to say the least. Like the omnipresent sounds that it made were trying to vocalize. It… that voice offended Spike's ears and pierced into his every nerve._

"_This…this isn't happening…" Spike cringed as he spoke, he couldn't hear himself._

"_Hate to burst your bubble there, bro, but this IS happening. I suggest you deal with it…" It now had a shape… or something vaguely resembling a shape. A coiling form, similar in its fluctuating shape to a white blot of ink that had been dripped into pitch black water rolled towards him, a pair of haunting blue orbs of fire staring at him. "You've been ignoring me for far too long, big bro. It hurts my feelings…" the sardonic sneer was not visible on the "face" of the Noise, but it could be pictured through its tone of voice. _

"_Bro… the hell are you talking about? I'm not your brother…" Spike murmured, forcing himself to face the thing that had tried to control him since day one. _

_It laughed in his face, a hideous noise that should not have been. "Oh, but you are… Sparkplug built me, right? And he sired you… hence our brotherhood!" The malicious glee was almost too much to hear. _

"_You… you've been trying to make me do bad things… you made me turn against my friends!" Now fueled by a rage brought on by the realization of what this… thing was, forced Spike onto his feet and he forced himself to stare into its eyes. The Noise just snickered._

"_Guilty as charged. So what'cha gonna do 'bout it, hmm?" It neared Spike's face and challenged him with its tone, mocking every bit of his being with it. "You know you find it easier to listen to me. You know how much simple things are when you just give in and follow my advice. Why fight me?" _

"_Because you lie to me… you tell me everyone is against me and that they all want to kill me." Spike shot back, refusing to let this thing worm its way into his confidence and into his mind. "Why… why do you hate me?"_

"_Because you're a usurper, that's why." The Noise said calmly, using its excess mass to circle around Spike, constricting him. "It was MY body first, and I'm not leaving without a fight…" It squeezed around his body viciously, so much so that Spike couldn't even scream out loud. "You little wretch… you come into MY body, and try and take MY life? Heh, looking into your own memories, I kinda see why you'd want a fresh start through me. You are a friggen loser, man! Stuck in dead-end job with old tubbo, living in the shadows of a bunch of wishy-washy robots… damn, man, you NEED me!" _

_Spike tried to block out the images the Noise was sending his way as it spoke to him, images that emphasized on Spike's frankly miniscule contributions to the defense of his own planet, and twisting the proud memories of serving side by side with his father on the oil rig into a dull tale of daily drudgery. This could not be the truth of his life… it couldn't be!_

* * *

"What in blazes!?"

"Ratchet, his mind is fluctuating at an alarming rate! My equipment is detecting the presence of two separate minds!"

"Holy slag, it's that 'noise' he was talking about! Wheeljack, start the separation process NOW! I want whatever it is inside his head out, and I mean now!"

"Already on it Ratch! Come on Spike, hang in there…"

* * *

_In the inner recesses of Spike's mind, a war was being waged._

_Spike was losing._

_It wasn't fair, thought the human as he felt himself be… consumed, for lack of a better word. He had been so close, so close to escaping it from this horrid thing that was now taking him over. Only to trip at the finish line. In his mind's eye he could see them. His father, Bumblebee, Prime… he could see them all, and he remembered… _

_His first day on the job with dad…_

_Teaching Bumblebee about the earth, getting a hearty chuckle out of the Autobot's perplexed reactions… _

_Listening with horror and awe as Prime explained the true scope of the Autobot-Decepticon conflict, and feeling the burning desire to do what he could to help…_

"_Aw, come off it, Witwicky. You're better off not existing anyhow. I mean, what would you do with the beyond awesome bod they're building for me as we speak? You'd mope around whining about how your life is ruined forever, or some such crap. Such a waste…"_

_That filthy, obnoxious, downright EVIL voice penetrated Spike's mind once again. He hated it… he hated the voice… no, he hated The Noise. And that's when it happened; he could SEE into the perversion's mind. Spike felt within him a fire grow, expanding from his heart and filling his every fiber with a righteous fury. Spike's eyes snapped open, and to his delight he could feel The Noise recoil in shock._

"_NO WAY!" Spike bellowed out, forcing his way out of the other's grip. His stance was steady, and he pointed an accusing finger at the mental anomaly. "You… you just shut your nonexistent mouth! My life is not a waste, a hell of lot less then yours! You saw in my mind… guess what? It works both ways!" _

_The Noise intensified it's backdrop around him, trying to drown out Spike, but it wasn't working._

"_You… you didn't HAVE a real mind until you read mine! You copied my memories into your own twisted existence to make up for the fact you started out as just a bundle of warped emotions! And your desires… how in the name of God did you become like that?!" _

_The Noise snickered at the tirade. "How do you explain a man born to a loving family and a good home massacring people on a whim? How do you explain a mother up and smothering her infant children with a pillow as they sleep? How do you explain a boy your age who suffers from no noticeable mental illness up and shooting his peers with a gun? Once you can explain those things, you'll be able to explain me…" the tone of The Noise was the same when someone tells a sick, morbid joke that no one in their right mind finds funny. Spike shook his head in disgust. _

"_You… you're a repulsive, sadistic animal. And you tried to hurt people, hurt my friends through me. Well guess what?" He raised his head to face The Noise, a smirk on his face. "You're not gonna get another chance. And ya know why?"_

_The Noise gazed at him cockeyed. "I somehow doubt that, delusional, little flesh-thing. But go ahead. I'll humor you."_

"_It's 'cause I got friends who know this digital brain like they know the back of their hands. And as I speak, they're working to separate you from me. Ya got that?! You're going DOWN you insane wannabe-!" _

_At that point The Noise decided it had taken enough lip from its "sibling", and, with a strangled roar, leapt at Spike, filling his head with the cacophony of sounds and once again trying to consume Spike into its being. _

"_I'M NOT THE WANNABE! YOU ARE!! THIS WAS MY BODY TO BEGIN WITH! MINE, MINE, MINE, MINE!!!I'LL TAKE IT ALL FROM YOU!! YOUR MEMORIES, YOUR DREAMS, YOUR LIFE!!! I-!"_

_As it continued its rant, The Noise failed to notice that pieces of its shapeless form were running off from it, its bright substance flowing from the main clump like wet paint across a black canvas. It did not notice however, too consumed by its insane screaming and tirade directed at Spike. It did not notice that it was growing smaller by the minute, it's screams and yells and rants soon echoing into the void as it continued to "drip" away, vanishing into apparent nothingness. Spike was now on the floor, panting for dear life. What had just happened? Where had The Noise gone? And why…_

…_why did he feel so lightheaded…?_

_He felt so tired… perhaps all the excitement was getting to him…_

… _he just needed a nap. Yes, a nap would do._

_In that instant, his world turned totally dark. _

* * *

"Aaaand, voila! Data transfer is completed!" Wheeljack crowed, holding up a data disk before him - the one containing the mysterious additional personality that had cohabited Spike's new mind, fresh from the personality transfer matrix. He set the disk down for now, glaring at it menacingly. "I'll attend to you later." He jabbed a finger in the direction of the disk to emphasize his threat. He then turned his attentions back to his compatriots… and the now completed Spike. "So then, insanity-inducing alternate personality aside, we're done right?"

"That we are, my good mech; that we are." Perceptor nodded with a smile, patting the hood of Spike's primary alternate mode. Early on in the operation, general consensus was that though Spike may have been more comfortable waking up in robot mode given the similar familiar shape, it would be best that he learn how to transform like any other Autobot.

This meant that when he woke up, it would be in his primary vehicle mode.

"Awright, you two. Enough pats on our collective backs. Let's get him rolled outta here." Ratchet pushed in a button at the control panel of the mechanical berth, setting it lower and lower until it reached the ground. Without another word, Wheeljack and Perceptor both took up positions behind the vehicle that was now Spike and pushed, directing their unconscious friend into the isolation ward, for the sake of his privacy of course. It was where Wheeljack kept most of his major experiments, and NO ONE went there without explicit permission from the resident mad genius. After settling him in the darkened room, Perceptor made his way out with no comment, but Wheeljack lingered on, turning around and facing the untransformed Autobot before him, a paternal glint was in his optics.

"Welcome to life, Autobot Spike." He murmured quietly, solemnly. And with that, Wheeljack made his way out of the isolation wards and into the main science bay area. The scientific trio would have to make preparations. Tomorrow was going to be a very big day for Spike.

It would be his first day as a true Autobot. It would also be the day he divorced himself from humanity...

Such a bittersweet celebration this would be.


	6. Reborn

AN: This chapter and all previous chapters was beta-read by Epona Harper. Praise her.

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Six: Reborn **

Darkness.

That was all Spike could really… well, it was not as if it was all he could see. More like all that he could really conceive of. He knew he was awake, yet he could not see, could not hear, and truthfully he wasn't sure that he could feel anything. Now, in theory this should have shocked and horrified him. He was completely without sensation; should he not have been in a panic, blindly flailing his limbs about and screaming at the top of his lungs, if only to verify that he actually existed? Well, oddly enough none of that was needed for young Spike Witwicky. He could tell that he existed and was indeed alive by the simple fact that he was thinking. And as the old saying went "I think, therefore I am".

_Okay then, let's review. When I was 'awake', I'd just finished getting rid of a crazy psycho killer thing that existed in this body before I came along. Autobot X tried to destroy my confidence and absorb me, but hey, it just ain't that easy to get me down. And then, BOOM! Mr. Psycho has gone bye-bye. Yay for me! But now that begs the question… where in God's name am I now?! _

He tried to move around again, but to no avail. Still, he did not panic… not really. He was frightened, more then a little frustrated, but he had not yet crossed that line into the realm of panic.

_Okay Spike, get a grip; you know you're not dead; otherwise you wouldn't be having this conversation with yourself. So, by that logic, I should be able to move around in this new body… so why can't I?! Okay, calm down. Let's look at this logically… at least, as logically as this entire scenario can be taken. Which means… zilch in the logic department. But hey, if I can get past that freaking noise, I can get past this. Maybe the key is NOT forcing myself to move..._

With this philosophy fresh in his mind, Spike mentally took in a breath; then released the phantom air as a new sense of calm overtook him. For a second there was nothing… then, he could hear. All around him, the thrum of electronic devices rang within his mind, his senses taking in ever detail of the sounds of electricity flowing and mechanisms turning. Never before had the sounds of active machinery ever sounded so beautiful to Spike. Nor had they ever sounded so… _natural. _It was equivalent to how a forest would sound, with birds singing and a stream running.

He was making progress, this he knew. Soon, touch returned… was this touch? It seemed dulled somehow… but then he recalled that this was a transformer body. The sense of touch that this metallic form possessed was considerably less then that of his familiar human form. In compensation for the lack of sensation, words began to flash across his vision. For a second he panicked again, but forced himself into a state of calm soon afterward. Bright text analyzing the materials in the ground for his convenience; not understanding the advanced chemical formulas that assailed his vision, but at least he could see something. He'd have to get used to these…

The next sense that came was smell. Like touch, it was dulled when compared to what a human could feel, and already another set of analytical statistics were brought before him, these ones having to do with chemicals abounding in the air, much like his sense of touch had analyzed and identified the substances he had felt. And like the last time, the atomic structures and formulas presented to him were way over his head…

"Yeesh, it is it going to be like this all the time?" he drawled sarcastically, and then froze in shock a sudden realization. "I… I can talk! Whoo-hoo! I can TALK! I can vocalize, I can verbalize!" Spike felt giddy - honest to god, giddy - at this little revelation. He was starting to realize just how good it felt to actually do these simple things. After a prolonged period in darkness, he had begun to understand just how much he took his senses for granted.

"Okay then. I've gotten down hearing, touching, smelling… not so sure if I really wanna try out taste just yet. So, the only thing left is vision… or at least, vision outside of those equations and stuff." Once again, Spike took a cool approach to this, trying not to force it.

"I just gotta let it happen…"

And for yet another moment, there was nothing. Then the darkness started to ebb, details became clear and objects soon gained shape, substance and color to them. From the looks of things, he was in the isolation ward. _The guys must have wanted to give me some privacy… must be an Autobot thing. Okay then Ratchet, let's see what you and Ark's finest have bestowed upon me… _

When things finally cleared up totally, he beheld before him… a mirror. And in the mirrors reflection, he bore witness to…

A midnight blue Toyota Landcruiser, with a modest red Autobrand located on the hood. His alternate mode was before him… and it wasn't all that bad. His motor hummed, and he found himself getting closer to the mirror. The sensation of his wheels turning was far too alien for him to really put into terms that where part of his or any other human's vocabulary. Of course, this entire situation was far beyond the imaginings of most humans; his love of machinery and automobiles had been translated to extremes that he had never imagined before.

Knowing his alternate mode made him all the more curious as to what his robot mode looked like. He drew upon a memory from the earlier days, when he had been filled with nothing but questions for his newfound Autobot friends. He recalled asking Bumblebee what it was like to transform, and he recalled the small Autobot's attempt to answer his question about transforming.

"_Transforming… mech, how to explain it? Okay it's like… it's like… Ooh! I got it! It's like when you- no, wait, never mind. I thought I had it, but I lost it. Sorry bud, but it kind of difficult to describe something that's so much a part of you. It just is, and I can't give a better description."_

It had been all at once a very deep yet rather fruitless answer. Later Spike had learnt more about the process of learning to transform from mode to mode. One of the things that had stuck was that it could not be forced, that it would happen on its own. It was with this realization that Spike understood why everything had been taken at a baby-step pace; he was going through what was essentially Transformer birth. He was in the process of being born…

He mentally shook his head, refocusing on the issue at hand. If he could get his senses together by acting calm and not rushing things, then he could get into robot mode through similar methods. He just needed to let it…

"WHOA!"

It came so suddenly that Spike had almost had a heart attack – or perhaps a fuel-pump failure would have been more accurate description. His vision went on a rollercoaster ride as parts shifted and changed, his form alternating and adjusting. The moment of truth was upon him, and soon Spike beheld…

…yet ANOTHER vehicle. This time an aircraft, a jet fighter of some sort with the same midnight blue colors scheme. His extensive knowledge of automated vehicles, be they of land, sea or air, kicked in almost instantly, allowing him to realize that this particular jet was in fact an F14-Tomcat. He felt the panic rise in him again, thinking maybe that the Autobots had made a mistake and given him two vehicle modes and NO robot mode. But just as quickly he was able to recall, to his distaste, the Decepticons Blitzwing and Astrotrain. They could change into two different vehicles… Triple-changers, that's what the Autobots had called them. That bit of knowledge in hand, Spike calmed down and told himself that he was NOT a freak, that Wheeljack and company had NOT condemned him to life as a car/jet. In fact, when he thought about it, the situation actually seemed pretty good. He had TWO alternate modes, and, not to mention, he was actually able to FLY now. He gave an audible chuckle at that thought, remembering how much fun he'd had when he'd been flying. It would be so nice to return to the skies again, that much was certain.

Spike yet again calmed himself, allowed instincts (programming?) not entirely his own to take over and work with his body. Again he felt the shifting of parts as the transforming sequence began again, even hearing that practically trademarked sound-effect that accompanied a transformation. This time he gave an audible sigh of relief at the familiar sensation of standing on two legs, and gazed into the mirror again.

Instead of seeing the grotesque monstrosity that he had begun to grow accustomed to, what stood before Spike made his now metallic jaw fall. The face was the same - that much had remained unchanged, as had his impressive size and bulk. But other than that…

Gone were all signs of his recycled nature. Gone were the misaligned parts and the obvious junkyard nature of his parts. His helm was now whole, rather then a mishmash mistake as it had been originally. Atop the well-sculpted helm was a large, red crest. It was not unlike the kind used by Prowl and Bluestreak, only it was… broader, to say the least, more aggressive somehow. It suited Spike, and reminded him at some level of a samurai's helmet. His arms and legs were the same shade of white as his face, but there was the underscoring of faint, barely-there blue. However, his forearms and forelegs remained the same shade of midnight-blue, maintaining uniformity and making him appear as though he were wearing a kind of skimpy armor. The headlights of the landcruiser were located upon his chest, and he noted to his delight that he now possessed TWO hands, rather then a single hand and a built-in cannon. He wondered how many of his weapon systems had been left intact. There were only a few signs of his third mode, but they were so glaringly obvious that they more then made up for their scarcity. Out of his back where his wings, in the place where an Autobot's "doorwings" may have been, standing long and proud; symbols of his airborne nature, as well as the tail-fins located at the sides of his forelegs, giving his boot-like armor a bit more flare. He frowned a little, though, at how much it made him look like a seeker… ah, but he was NOT a seeker, was he? In all honesty, if you took away the wings and the tailfin protrusions, he looked much like a larger, meaner version of Prowl.

All in all, his new body was not half-bad, not half-bad at all.

"So this is the new me… wow…" he breathed out, taking a few steps towards the sizeable mirror. His hand reached out and touched the surface, his reflection mimicking the movements. He _should_ have felt happier then he was feeling, this he knew. After all, he was finally free from that horrific monstrosity that he had called a body, was he not? He now had all the power and everlasting life of an Autobot. What more could a boy want?

What more indeed…

Even as a human, he had dreamed of what it would be like, to be a Transformer. Of course, in his dreams they only lasted a day and he could get back to his life whenever he wanted to. But now… now he was stuck with this.

He loved this new body, that was undisputable, but at the same time it caused him a deep, abiding sadness. This body was the final nail in the coffin of his human life.As this body stood and lived, now William "Spike" Witwicky ceased to be, little more then a pile of ash sitting in an urn. His hand clenched into a fist.

He could never go back now, that was the unfortunate truth. This body was so much more then what he had started with, and yet…

And yet…

It was not _his _body, his real form. He had not grown up with this, had not experienced his life with this… it was a new, foreign thing that was easing its way into his mind as a suitable body. Reminding him that he was legally dead, and that from here on in this was his life, his future. A heavy sigh escaped him; his expression dour as he leaned his forehead against the mirror and looked at the ground… the ground that was roughly twenty two feet or so underneath him now. His mind swam in the thoughts of his past, and the realities of his future. He lifted his head and gazed into the reflection - into the face that was now his.

"Goodbye, William Witwicky. Hello, Autobot Spike."

He stood up straight now, a determination growing within him. He was still Spike. That would be his anchor to his humanity, to his memories of who he truly was. His name… nickname technically, but still it was his name. Oh sure, he could probably change his name to something more "Autobot-ish". It was probably even expected of him. But, no, he would not do so. To relinquish this one little thing, this one facet of his former life that had remained relatively untouched by the upheavals that had befallen him, this sole tie to humanity that remained… it would mean completely burying his past, acknowledging that he was no longer human at all and totally renouncing his people. Completely ending his humanity.

It was something that he _would not_ bring himself to do.

_So what if I'm no longer human in body? I'm still human in mind and spirit! _Spike told himself, his posture and demeanor gaining ground in confidence as he reminded himself of who he was. No matter what, he was still Spike, son of Sparkplug. His life AS a human may have been over, but his humanity would never die, never. He turned around now, heading for the exit of the isolation ward with a determination born of his newfound realization, a zeal that had been dead in him these past days. He would _try _to make the best of this, try to cling onto what he was, and try to be stronger then the doubts of his mind would allow him to be. For the sake of his friends… and his father, he would not allow himself to despair, no matter how much it killed him inside to know that he could never ever again return to his people. He would march on though, and he would survive, if only to spite the monster responsible for killing him.

By the time he reached the door, a resolution had been made by an Autobot named Spike. That though he would be an Autobot in appearance, form and species, he would forever remain a human in all the ways that truly mattered.

He would be an Autobot without… and a human _within. _


	7. Orientation

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Seven: Orientation **

"Move aside!"

"Hey watch it, Sunstreaker!"

"You watch it, you little-"

"Me Grimlock want see new Autobot!"

"GAHA! Grimlock, watch the slagging paint!"

"Would you three quit squawking like a buncha hens!?"

Such was the commotion within the halls located outside of the medical bay, where virtually every mech available had converged into an excited mob. Somehow, rumor had spread throughout the Ark that Spike was now ready for his "unveiling" as it were. How this leak had occurred was unknown, and it confounded Ratchet and company to an endless extent. Most suspected Mirage of being the one responsible, but, when anyone asked (or outright accused, as was the case with Ratchet), the aristocratic spy simply rebuffed even the slightest implication of his involvement. Not that the spy's words really did much to affect the popular opinions of the Ark's inhabitants, as usual.

At the very forefront of this mob, standing ahead of both Sunstreaker and Grimlok was none other then the former human's best friend among the Autobots, Bumblebee. The little yellow mini, smallest among the Ark mini-bots, had been in a somewhat anxious state since news of Spike's successful reconstruction had met his audios. Since then, the suspense had practically been killing the espionage expert. This was only exacerbated by Sparkplug being allowed in to bear witness to his son's new form while Bumblebee continued to be left in the dark as to his friend's current condition.

"Me Grimlock getting bored! When Autobot Spike come out?"

The thundering voice of the Dinobot commander snapped Bumblebee out of his worries, causing him to flinch and grimace at the sudden, coarse bellowing that assaulted his audio sensors. Gingerly turning his head to face the massive metal lizard, Bumblebee couldn't help but wonder why "dino-breath" was so interested in Spike.

"Say, Grimlock… why exactly are you getting so worked up over this?"

Grimlock looked down at the smaller bot, his expression surly.

"Me Grimlock have me reasons. You not need know."

Bumbelee raised an optical ridge at this comment. Grimlock was usually very to the point when it came to speaking his mind, so it came as something of a shock for him to be so cagey about his intentions. Deciding that maybe he _didn't _want to know Grimlock's reasons, Bumblebee merely shrugged and let the belligerent Dino be.

It didn't stop him from getting any antsier though.

At the side, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe where conversing among themselves, both of them insatiably curious as to what Spike's new body could be like.

"As long as it's not that horror show he's been walking around in as of late, I'll be fine." Sunstreaker proclaimed with an air of finality, while his crimson brother raised a brow ridge.

"You know, you've been taking this all a lot better then I would have thought you would… I mean, aren't you just the least bit weirded out by this? I mean, this is SPIKE. It's not like they just constructed a brand new Autobot or anything, this is our human friend in an Autobot body. It's just so… bizarre. And you're worried about how he'll look? What about the implications? The philosophical implications of this are deep and… philosophical."

Sunstreaker, still wearing that almost bored expression turned his head to face his twin. " 'The philosophical implications of this are deep and… philosophical'?" he asked incredulously. "Was that the best you could come up with?" His tone was harsh, but his optics held a twinkle in them that was reserved only for his twin, the only existing if subtle hint to any outside observers of the conversation that Sunstreaker's derision was in fact playful rather then serious.

Sideswipe frowned petulantly and crossed his arms over his chassis in mock indignation. "Well EXCUSE me for not being Perceptor, bro."

"Thank Primus. You're bad enough with a limited vocabulary, I don't know what I'd do if you had the walking thesaurus's gift for blathering."

* * *

Looking putting an audio sensor to the door, Wheeljack gave a high pitched whistle of appreciation. "Mechs alive, Spike. Sounds like you're gaining plenty of popularity, and you they haven't even seen you yet." The master scientist chuckled, shaking his head at the petty arguments that were breaking out. "At this rate their gonna start _eating_ each other if we don't get this show on the road." He turned his head to face the figures behind him. "How're you hanging in there?"

The aforementioned newly created Autobot had been fidgeting something awful for some time now, wringing his hands nervously as he tried to psyche himself for the impromptu orientation ceremony that was about to commence. And yet, as much as he tried to tell himself that these were his friends and that he really had nothing to worry about, he couldn't help but feel a dreadful amount of anxiety at what was about to come.

_There's… there's just so MANY of them out there…_

"I'm not sure I can do this, guys…"

Spike warbled, now looking more nervous then ever. He flinched at the feel of a hand on his flank, but calmed almost instantaneously at the realization that it was merely his father offering him comfort for what was to come.

"Anything you wanna talk about son?" the elder Witwicky intoned, looking up at his now massive offspring, more then ready to comfort the boy in this moment of personal doubt. Spike looked down at his father, his face a metallic mask of worry and trepidation.

"It's just… I dunno, it's like I got stage fright. I think that if I go out there something will happen. Aw heck, I'm probably just being paranoid but the fact is right now I'm terrified out of my mind…"

Sparkplug in the meantime stared up at Spike with more then a mild element of incredulity in his brown eyes. "Ah, Spike, not to be insensitive or anything, but in the last several days you've transformed from a human to an Autobot, fought with your friends, and from your description of what went on while you were being reformatted, came _this_ close to getting killed by some psychotic personality that existed in Autobot-X before you came along. And now you get cold feet?"

Spike lowered his head slightly; then gave a heavy sigh. "You're right, dad. You're right, I'm being silly. I mean, cripes, I've been through worse then in the last few days. This should be a cakewalk…" He was still speaking to his father, but it was fairly evident that he was trying to convince himself of this as well as Sparkplug. He frowned heavily as he stared at the door, his mind awash with images of condemnation and mockery. Paranoid, yes, but the image of Bumblebee's utter disgust with him had burned deep in the quite frankly fragile mind of Spike.

_No, _he suddenly told himself as his posture straightened.

_It wasn't disgust with me, it was disgust with my body; Autobot-X's body. I'm not bound to that junkyard built body anymore, and I've got to stop acting like this. Look at me… I hang around giant robots and occasionally help them against their equally giant robotic foes, and here I am angsting it up over whether or not my own friends will accept me… pathetic, utterly and completely pathetic. _

He let out on last heavy sigh before gazing at the door, his posture and air confident and ready.

"Okay, enough shivering around in the dark. Let's get this show on the road."

Ratchet, who had been leaning in the corner growling to himself about the hold-up flung his arms into the air.

"FINALLY! Yeesh, Spike, it took you long enough…" the medic groused in exasperation. Perceptor in the meantime crossed his arms across his chest, giving his colleague a chastising look.

"Ratchet, it is hardly your right to be impatient with regards to Spike's orientation. He has been through much in the last week or so, and anything to exasperate his trauma would be most-"

"Ease up there Perceptor," Spike raised his hand, a small smile gracing his face as he cut the motor-mouthed scientist off. "He's right. I've been acting kinda skittish, and it's time for me to face the music, in a way."

Perceptor ceased his verbal castigation of Ratchet, who merely put his hands behind his head and gave a triumphant smirk. Perceptor merely 'rolled' his optics and shook his head. Wheeljack placed a hand over his nonexistent mouth and made a sound quite remarkable to clearing out his throat, a habit he had picked.

"If all has been taken care of," he stepped to the side with a flourish of his hand, "your public awaits." His headlights were flashing in good humor. Sparkplug gave another comforting pat on Spike's flank.

"Go on son. Everything'll be fine, you'll see." He smiled up at his son. Spike smiled right back and set his sights on the door. Now totally free of the trepidation that had plagued him earlier, Spike made his way to the door.

* * *

The commotion, previously threatening to border onto a full-fledged riot, abruptly fell into a pregnant silence when someone pointed out the doors were opening. Everyone scrambled to regain their composure as Spike's hulking form made its way out of the science bay. Thanks to the nightshade blue of Spike's primary coloration, it was as though he had practically materialized out of the darkness, and the effect caused a bit of a start for some of the 'bots. For a moment, there was silence, marred only by the faint creaking noise of Spike's facial plating forming into a nervous grin.

And then…

"Wow… Spike, you look great!" Naturally, it was Bumblebee who made the first comment, an earnest smile on his face as he walked up to his now gargantuan friend. With the Bug's words, what little tension there was broke as the bulk of the crowd clamored around to get a good look at their friend, murmuring their approval (along with a quiet statement "Why blue?" from Sunstreaker). Some however kept their distance at the back of the crowd. Mirage was one, Grimlock another (who was being unusually taciturn) as were Brawn, Cliffjumper, Huffer and Red Alert. Other then them, though, most of the 'bots were fairly eager to get a look at Spike. Smokescreen also kept his distance, but his was a more analytical manner than the little group that was blatantly avoiding the "new" Autobot. The tech trine, Perceptor, Ratchet, and Wheeljack soon made their way out from the bay along with a proud-looking Sparkplug.

"Heh, thanks 'bee…" Despite the mostly widespread acceptance, Spike still felt somewhat… awkward. He knew he was supposed to say something, anything at all… but quite frankly, he could not conceive of anything to say at this point.

_Smile and wave, Spike ol'boy. At this point, it's the only thing you can be sure to do right… _

A sudden hush came over the chattering crowd as a familiar figure made his way to the group, 'bots parting at his coming much like the Red Sea did for Moses. As per usual, Optimus emanated a kind of warmth, a calming effect that most could not resist. He walked up to Spike, putting a hand to his shoulder and standing to the side. Checking to make sure that he had everyone's rapt attention, he began to speak.

"As you are all aware of by now, Spike has become an Autobot permanently thanks to Megatron's machinations. I am aware that many of you strongly recall his actions during his initial time as an Autobot, as well as the direct aftermath of his original body's destruction," He paused for a tic, watching the nodding of heads and hearing the quiet murmurs of his troops. Spike managed to suppress an embarrassed wince as he recalled those days of madness.

Prime continued on.

"I would like you all to know this; Spike was not entirely himself at that time. I have been informed by both Ratchet and Perceptor that Spike was not the only conscious mind present in Autobot-X's body. This malevolent intellect was taking advantage of Spike's emotional duress at the time, and influencing his actions. I want you to know that Wheeljack has successfully extracted this personality, and, as of now, Spike is completely free of its influence; which is why I expect you to keep an open mind, and welcome Spike as the latest addition to the Autobot forces on Earth. You are dismissed."

And with that, the crowd dispersed, 'bot's scattering in all directions as they headed towards their stations, ready to begin the day. Ratchet and the scientific duo made their way back to the medical bay and laboratory, respectively, while Prime ushered Sparkplug down the hall, wanting to discuss something with the elder human. That left only Spike and Bumblebee, who looked up at his friend and gave a winning smile.

"Sooo… what's your alt-mode?" he asked with a grin. Spike returned the grin, even smirking a little in pride.

"I got two. Toyota landcruiser and an F14."

Bumblebee's optics widened a little, as did his grin. "You're a triple-changer? Awesome! Oh, man, we gotta test out your modes as soon as possible."

Spike chuckled, loving the idea. However…

"As much as I'd like to give it a go, and I mean that… I am _starving! _I haven't had anything to eat… erm, consume since I got this body! I'm actually starting to feel a little tired," Spike explained, now actually starting to show the exhaustion that had been building up. Bumblebee snapped his fingers with an odd metallic twang, the smile not leaving his face.

"Aha! Well then Spike, you're first official action as an Autobot will be the most glorious action of… consuming energon!" Bumblebee took up a flashy mock dramatic pose that caused Spike to chuckle in amusement. It was three seconds later that the Volkswagen cocked his head up to Spike in curiosity. "… do you even know how to consume energon?"

Spike put a hand to his chin in thought. "You know, I'm not entirely sure… I mean, I know at some level how to do stuff like you guys do. It's like instinct…"

"Programming." Bumblebee stated. Spike raised a brow.

"Programming?"

"Yep. Organics have instincts, mechanoids have programming." The Bug explained with a nod of confirmation. At this explanation however Spike frowned.

"But I don't have programming… I mean, the original mind inhabiting this body was a fluke; it wasn't programmed, yet it knew how to work the body at some level and gained more knowledge and sentience by leeching off of my memories. And yet, even afterwards, I just _knew _how to work the abilities of this body. I'm telling you, it's not programming."

Now it was Bumblebee's turn to raise an optic, and his expression became somewhat disturbed at the Landcruiser/Jet combo's explanation.

"Whatever you say, Spike. Whatever you say…" After that somewhat awkward silence, Bumblbee's face became more concerned. "In all seriousness, Spike… how're you doing? And I don't mean physically. How _are_ you?" It was a sparkfelt question, one of a friend wanting to understand what was going on in the head of a friend. Spike sighed in response.

"I feel weird, Bumbebee. I mean, really, really weird. I mean, YOU try coming to grips with becoming something almost totally different from what you're used to. Yes, I know this body is stronger, that it's tougher, that it'll last longer and that it can do a million things my old body couldn't, but the fact is… I _miss _being human, 'Bee. I miss it so much. And then there's the fact that it's finally sunk in that I can't go back. Ever." He lowered his head a little, his tone steadily growing more forlorn as an air of hopelessness took hold. "I'm starting accept what's happened to me, and that my old life is over. That doesn't stop it from hurting…"

Bumblebee stepped forward, putting an emphatic hand on Spike's shin, looking up at his troubled pal. "Spike… I won't pretend to completely understand what you're going through. I'm not even sure if I understand how all this is even possible. But I just want you to know, no matter what happens… I'm here for you."

Spike turned his head to gaze down at the Bug, feeling a flicker of hope in his spark at his friend's words.

"You… you mean that, Bumblebee?" he asked, his voice quavering slightly. Bumblebee smiled and nodded warmly.

"Sure do. You're my friend, Spike. Even when you went off the deep end after the news hit, I stuck to you and kept on searching for you, even when others were calling it quits. When we got the first concrete sighting of you, I sped over as soon as I could. I'm your friend, Spike. And nothing will change that."

Spike's lower lip component quivered, a smile slowly working its way over his face, touched beyond measure by the minbot's statement. Overcome with emotion, the slow-working smile broke out into an absolutely enormous grin.

"Aww, come here you little-!"

"Spike? Whaaaa-?!"

In an instant, Spike had gotten down on a knee and scooped up the yellow mini in a BIG hug, causing a surprised sputter and writhing about on part of the aforementioned mini, all the while wearing an affectionate grin on his face.

"SPIKE! Spike, come on, ya big sap-!"

"Aw, he called me a big sap! I never thought I'd hear that from you, 'Bee."

"Yes, this is a magic occasion. Now put me down! Come one Spike, what if someone's watching…"

The grin not leaving his face, Spike let the smaller Autobot down on the floor, and stood up straight. Bumblebee brushed himself off and glared up at his friend, whose downright goofy smile still hadn't abated. The glare lasted only a few seconds, softening down into a smirk.

"Next time, warn me if you're gonna do something like that, ya big lug."

Spike nodded his head. "Heh, whatever you say little buddy." Bumblebee shook his head and chuckled good naturedly.

"Look at us. YOU'RE the big lug now, and I've been regulated back to 'little buddy' status. Shoe on the other foot, eh?"

Spike nodded yet again. "Sure is. What do you say we go get that energon now? I've actually been kind of curious about how it tastes… assuming it even has a taste to begin with."

A grin came upon Bumblebee's face as he headed down the hall. "Follow me, friend. I'll open you up to a _world _of possibilities." A similar grin on his face, Spike followed his good friend down the hall, anticipating the chance to try out energon, and simply enjoying the fact that, no matter what, Bumblebee would be by his side.

Maybe being an Autobot wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Wheeljack's lab, in the bowls of Ark's data storage…

Wheeljack had done what was necessary in wiping the data disc containing the emergent personality, and it was one of the few times when the prominent mad genius hadn't questioned the morality of what he was doing. Normally, the idea of totally obliterating an intelligent entity would have been abhorrent to him… but from what Spike had told him, that thing that had once resided in Autobot-X's body was a real monster. A sort of primal maliciousness that had been striving for a higher level of corruption - a more sophisticated form of cruelty.

That something could be so wholly corrupt from the beginning of its creation sickened the scientist to his core. Oh yes, he had no trouble whatsoever when the time came to insert the disk, type in the command keys, and simply obliterate the foul thing from existence. Once it was over, he popped the cleaned disc out of the hard drive and stored it in one of his subspace compartments. No used wasting a perfectly good disc, after all.

After that, with nary a second thought, he went back to the rest of the lab, dreaming up and drawing up all manner of miracle machines, confident that the cause of Spike's temporary madness was gone forever.


	8. Adapting

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Eight: Adapting **

"All right then. We're all clear with our stories, correct?" Optimus Prime spoke to the human and Autobot duo in front of him, his elbows resting on his desk and his fingers intertwined with each other. Spike and Sparkplug both nodded in confirmation. Optimus breathed a sigh of relief. "Then let's rehearse." Azure optics gazed in Spike's direction. "Spike, you are…?"

"The latest addition to the Autobot forces, built on earth," Spike replied mechanically. "During my days of activation I suffered a glitch and went haywire. But now I'm fixed and ready to defend the people of earth."

"Very good, Spike." Optimus nodded his head at the perfectly recalled explanation. It had been a little white lie Optimus had told the authorities when Spike went AWOL, just barely convincing them to allow the Autobots to capture and contain the "rogue Autobot". And it was also Spike's cover for the human populace should they have started asking questions about this apparently brand new Autobot. It had also been what he told the media when the parasitic mob had turned their attentions to the most direct source of information. He loathed deception, but … "And your name is…?" he asked, continuing with the rehearsal.

"Spike; in honor of your recently deceased human ally," Spike once again finished, this time a smile playing on his face. He was thankful beyond measure that Prime had devised a way for him to at least keep his name. This would be one of those things to keep him tied to his past. He may no longer have been human, but that didn't mean he was about to cut off all ties with his people. He swore by God that he would end himself before that happened…

Dark thoughts for a sixteen-year-old, but recent days had aged him past his years.

"Superb. And, Sparkplug, your opinion on this?" Optimus now focused his attentions to the Spike's beloved progenitor. Sparkplug cleared his throat and recited what was to be his statement for the media, taking on a superbly-done masque of depression, with just a hint of inner strength.

"I am in a deep state of mourning right now, as I've suffered a loss that I would wish on no one. I won't stop aiding the Autobots in their conflict with the Decepticons. Now more then ever am I determined to put an end to those monsters. In honor of my son's memory, the Autobots have named their latest member after him. I can say for sure that William would be honored to know of 'Autobot Spike'…"

"I dunno, kinda cheesy, don't you think?" Spike objected, rubbing his hand behind his head and grimacing slightly. Sparkplug nodded, but a knowing smile graced his features.

"True, but remember, son; cheesiness is the bread and butter of the media. They'll eat every last bit of it."

"Ah. I'd forgotten that…" Spike chuckled, a mock-sheepish smile developing. Optimus Prime "cleared" his throat in an effort to the two's attention.

"The media's predilections for fluff rather than substance aside, we are all agreed upon this deception?" the Autobot commander asked seriously. Father and son looked at each other, then at Prime, and nodded their heads simultaneously in agreement. The commander sighed. "Very well, it is done. Now that's over with, Spike," again focusing on the younger Witwicky, "As you are aware, I've discussed things with your father, and you will now be living here at Ark. I wanted to inform you that you'll be sharing quarters with Bumblebee."

"All right!" Spike broke out into a wide grin at the thought of being with his friend. It had been a tad depressing, knowing that he would never again sleep in his bedroom, but, now that he knew that he'd be with the energetic smaller Autobot, the idea of staying at Ark became less and less frightening. Even IF he wasn't entirely sure about how comfortable he actually found recharge berths to be. Personally, he would much rather have had a nice soft mattress to sleep on, but, hey, you dealt the hand you were given. Lord knows he'd been doing that for days now…

Sparkplug chuckled at his son's enthusiasm for the idea. He was going to miss the boy horribly, he knew this. He had prepared himself for the eventuality that his son would leave him, as all children must do. He had just never pictured it happening so soon… or in this manner, for that matter. Of course, it wasn't THAT bad. He could easily drive up to visit his boy, so that was a plus. Still… he'd never thought that he'd have to get used to living on his own only sixteen years after the Spike's birth. "I'll just be heading back home to get you a few of your things, okay, Spike?"

"Sure thing, Dad. Sure thing."

"Okay then. Optimus," Sparkplug nodded politely to the aforementioned Autobot, and then made his way to the door, his son's head turning to watch him as he left. Then something crossed his mind, prompting him to turn around and face the Autobot leader with curiosity. "Optimus, I just remembered something… how exactly did you get the doctors who were involved with Spike to keep quiet?"

"When the hospital was destroyed, my Autobots aided in delivering the priority patients to St. Bartholomew's hospital, not to mention the speedy reconstruction Grapple and Hoist were able to accomplish in the aftermath. The head physician was beyond grateful, saying that if there was anything he could do to help me, he would do it. I had a meeting with those doctors who performed the operation on Spike's body," The Autobot commander explained without a beat, "They all agreed to keep quiet, as payment for all the help the Autobots provided their hospital in its time of need."

Sparkplug nodded, comprehension dawning. "Aaah, I see… well, I better be off now. Once again, thank you, Optimus. For everything." In a few moments he was gone, leaving only Spike and Optimus in the commander's office. Once again, Optimus "cleared" his throat, causing Spike's head to whip back into face him.

"Now that all matters discussed have been attended to, there ONE last detail that we must cover…"

Spike cocked his head in curiosity. "What?"

At this, behind the mask, a smile formed on the commander's face, a twinkle in his optics.

"Why, your training of course."

* * *

First up was learning to move around in car mode. Thankfully, Bumblebee was covering this one.

"How you hanging in there, Spike?" Bumblebee called back to his friend, a grin could be heard in his voice as he traversed the dirt road in vehicle mode. From behind him, grumbling and grousing to no end, was a nineteen eighties model Toyota Landcruiser, otherwise known as Spike.

"How in the name of God Almighty do you deal with this?!" he demanded of his friend as his tires squeaked and squealed rather nastily. He was kicking up a regular old dirt storm with his attempts to navigate the terrain, discovering to his chagrin that maneuvering around a perfectly stable and cleaned metal floor was miles and miles easier then maneuvering around an unsteady dirt road. Not to mention the disasters that had come with learning how to turn corners, drive backwards, and park…

_This is like getting my driver's license all over again… only I'M the 'friggen car this time! _He wailed in his mind. This was perhaps some form of divine retribution; the first time he had gone around receiving his license, there had been… set-backs. Costly set-backs that almost got him banned from driving forever…

But enough about that. He ruthlessly pulled his mind back to the present.

"Spike, Spike, Spike; you're trying way too hard, mech! You've gotta love the road, respect the road," Bumblebee chided, soon adopting the tone usually used by surfing guru's to address the problems faced by most novice surfers when hitting the waves. "Become _one_ with the road…"

This only served to make Spike more agitated.

"One with the road?! At this rate, I'll be 'one with the road' after I bury myself in a trench dug by my tires!" Spike bellowed out. "This is sick! I should be _driving _a car, not learning to drive _as _a car!"

Bumblebee made a noise that sounded a lot like someone clucking his tongue in disappointment. "Spike, listen to someone who's used to life as a vehicle; Do. Not. Force. It. Come on, you told me things got easier for you to do when you calmed down and focused right? So, return to that mind set! C'mon, it can't be THAT difficult…"

Spike sighed heavily. He knew his friend was right, and in truth he knew he could do this. The only thing was…

_How do I tell him that just how uncomfortable I feel in vehicle mode? _

It was true; Spike found that being a vehicle was just too weird for his tastes. The different shape, the lack of limbs, it was all just too far away from what he was used to. If he had an option, he would rather have remained in robot mode the whole time rather then experience the wholly alien feel of being a car.

_He couldn't possibly understand what this is like for me… he's been doing this since the day he was created, and that was, like, a million years ago! How could he understand how unnatural I find all this…?_

Spike's attitude around that point suddenly changed. While these thoughts would normally have depressed him… it instead awoke an empowering element in his psyche, a sudden determination to not allow the reality of his situation to get him down. Yeah, he hated being a robot. Yeah, he detested being in a form other then his relatively human robot form…

… So what? Did that mean he just not try at all to work with his body? That he was just going to lie down and give up?

_Hell no! _

With that in mind, Spike allowed himself to calm, allowed his mind to focus. Suddenly, the shrieks and squeaks of aggravated rubber fell silent, allowing the smooth rumble of a motor to permeate the air. At this sudden change, Bumblebee smiled inwardly overjoyed that his friend was now just _trying _to drive rather than forcing his way through. A curve in the road was coming up, a perfect test for the now determined Spike. The two got closer to it. Closer… closer…

Now!

Bumblebee as per usual made a skillful turn, kicking up little dust as he made his way down the road. Spike, the moment of truth upon him, performed beautifully as he finally made the turn, rather then skidding off road and into catastrophe. Bumblebee saw the whole thing though his rear-view sensor array, and let out a triumphant whoop of joy at the sight.

"AWRIGHT! You did Spike! There now, what did I tell ya? I told ya right, didn't I? Of course I did! Aw man, I'm so proud of you." A light chuckle escaped from Spike.

"I'm just happy that I'm not tumbling off the road for a change." He stated simply, tuning out his friend's congratulatory blathering as they headed back for Ark. Privately, he wished more then anything…

…that he had driven a car, rather then been the car.

* * *

Next up was flying lessons, courtesy of Powerglide.

"Now then, Spike-a-reeno, you've first got to focus on one thing; flight! The sky and all that encompasses will soon be your personal playground, but only if you're able to spread those wings, blast that engine, and take off into the great blue beyond! Now, if you'll just follow my example, you'll be a prince of the skies in no time! Yep, you heard me, PRINCE of the skies! After all, there is only one king of the skies, and he is me…"

_What did I do to deserve this? God, please answer me. What sin did I commit that was so great that I deserved THIS kind of treatment? _

Spike suppressed a groan as the aerial egoist continued on and _on_ with his lesson, pacing before the Tomcat in robot mode while Spike remained in his secondary alternate mode. From Bumblebee's report, it had been pretty clear that Spike could handle flight in robot easily, so the bulk of Spike's training would consist of him learning the mastery of the aerial mode. Despite how much being in vehicle mode disturbed him, Spike knew that there was no real alternative in the matter; he was stuck as a Transformer, and he would learn how to live like one. Even if he didn't like it.

Of course, listening to the "Red Baron" peppering the lesson with bits about his daring, dashing and greatness was grating on Spikes nerves to no end. It was getting to the point where Spike was honestly considering going back to Ratchet and Wheeljack and demanding that they saw his wings off and convert his F-14 Tomcat mode into of another ground bound vehicle. Maybe a tank would be all right…

"…but first, we gotta master those jet thrusters of yours!" Powerglide finished happily, blithely unaware of Spike's apathy and growing levels of subtle, unspoken aggression being directed towards him. "You got all that, Spike?"

"Sure do, oh great lord and master of the sky," Spike groused sarcastically. "I've learnt all that I needed to learn about shooting fire outta my butt." Powerglide, somehow oblivious to the sarcasm, grinned widely.

"That's the spirit, Spike-o! Now then, let'er rip!" He ordered enthusiastically. Spike "stared" at him for a moment in utter incredulity, before turning his attentions back to the air strip. After hearing Powerglide's boasting, Spike determined that he would allow instinct (NOT programming) to guide him in this case rather then listen to the more experienced flyer. He took a deep breath (so to speak) and calmed down. He focused on the jet-thrusters, shuddering slightly at the alien sensation of the flames spewing forth from turbines and granting him motion.

"Good, good. You're doing alright Spike, but take it easy," Powerglide cautioned, but still using an encouraging tone. Deciding that maybe this was the one time that he _should_ heed the Red Baron's words, Spike did indeed will the flames to lessen somewhat. He steadily increased power to the thrusters after the initial drop in thrust, and was soon going faster and faster, maintaining a steady course on the runway. Deactivating his visual sensor array, he let loose a sudden burst of flame, felt a dramatic increase in speed as his tactile sensors fed him empirical knowledge concerning wind resistance and other things he didn't give a damn about.

For a moment, he felt weightless…

He reactivated his visual sensors… and smiled to himself. He was in the air, now in vehicle mode. He felt that same freedom he had felt when he first started flying, that indescribably warm sensation that had made his robot body almost worth living in. Admittedly, if he could do this, then perhaps he COULD learn to like being an Autobot. Even in the vehicle modes…

"You did good, Spike,"Powerglide's proud voice called out, jarring Spike out of his temporary reverie with a start. The familiar red form found its way next to Spike's own larger, blue form, and Spike could not help but smile inwardly. "Not bad for your first try. Not as good as _my _first try, but then again we all can't be perfect…" The inward smile turned into a frown of exasperation. Then, an idea struck Spike, a sudden whim that he had always wanted to try as a _human_ flying a jet.

"Yo, Powerglide, check this out!" Spike made a sudden dive, plunging toward the earth below him at breakneck speeds. Powerglide yelled and cried out for Spike to stop - that he was going to get himself killed, but Spike stayed on his course. At the last second, he pulled up, almost grazing the ground before shooting up again at a nearly vertical trajectory. Back at normal altitude he completed the maneuver with a loop-de-loop. Spike's exhilarated grin was practically visible as he performed the stunt, feeling just a little giddy as he finished it off. He flew towards Powerglide, a smirk on his non-existent face. "So then, 'Glide, what'd you think?"

"That was a dangerous, life-threatening and irresponsible stunt you pulled," Powerglide responded acerbically. However, his tone changed to one of approval, even admiration. "Couldn't have done it better myself. You got potential Spike, and under my tutelage you may someday become almost as good as me."

Spike let out a defeated sigh. He would take his victories where he could get them and for now the daredevil's approval, however condescending, would do…

* * *

The next day focused on close-quarters fighting with The Twins…

It had been decided that the two could teach him more about the finesse of fighting, to give him a bit more variety and effectiveness outside of the brute force tactics he had already mastered. Hours upon hours it lasted, constant drilling and endless matches with the sparring drone. From morning till midnight this had lasted, the only relief granted to Spike were those short periods he was allowed to take in energon, simply to prevent him from dropping. Eventually some time after midnight the two decided it was time for a little free-form training. Spike now wielded a training shield and sword, and was engaging Sunstreaker in close combat while Sideswipe provided commentary.

Needless to say, Spike was getting _extremely _frustrated.

"Aaaand once again, the Spikester makes a move so slow our aged and deceased maker could have dodged it. Come on Spike, get with the program!" Sideswipe crowed, aggravating the massive Autobot even further as he tried to fight off the golden warrior before him. To the untrained optic, it would seem that the mischief-making war-built siblings were simply having fun at Spike's expense, playing a right dangerous game of 'Bot baiting. However, unbeknownst to most, they were indeed teaching Spike about combat. For as the fight progressed, it was clear that he was indeed learning; tricks and tactics that Sunstreaker had used earlier with smashing success were no longer working as well as they should have, and Spike was adapting quickly to the golden gladiator's style. It made both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker feel a small surge of pride to know they were molding their friend into an excellent instrument of destruction. Not like either of them were going to let him know that, of course.

"Come on Spike! What's the matter, all that bulk and you still have trouble hitting little old me?" Sunstreaker jeered as he evaded another blow, not mentioning that Spike had come closer then ever before to knocking his head off. It pleased the warrior to no end that he could see the raw levels of rage growing inside of the younger mech. Despite Optimus' assurances, Sunstreaker had not been entirely convinced of Spike's level-headedness. While he couldn't understand how being an Autobot could possibly be THAT bad, he was keenly aware of the hidden levels of aggression within the ex-human. It showed through his optics… behind the seemingly calm façade there was lurking a storm, something deeply primal and furious. And Sunstreaker had every intention of seeing that demonic rage channeled into something productive, something that would give the Decepticons cause to shake in their armor. Oh yes, when Sunstreaker was done with him, Spike was going to be one excellent instrument of destruction.

Then, Sideswipe decided to have another dig at Spike's expense.

"Mechs alive, Spike! Sunny could take you down with arm pinned behind his back at this rate…" Something in Spike snapped at hearing that. With a frustrated growl he tossed aside his training weapons, the sword and shield clattering loudly against the metallic floor of the Ark's training room. Sunstreaker raised a brow at this move, but before he could even ask he suddenly found himself yelling in shock when a massive hand grabbed him by the midsection, lifting him into the air and sending him hurtling towards his motor-mouthed twin. Sideswipe didn't even have time to register what was happening before he found himself a part of an entanglement of limbs and bodies, slumped against the wall and pinned by the inert form of his sibling. A look of horror came over Spike's face when he realized what he had just done, the anger evaporating in an instant as regret and self-loathing surged to the fore.

"Oh, Jesus! Sideswipe, Sunstreaker I'm so sorry…" Spike started, feeling utterly ashamed at losing his cool like that. However, from under the golden bulk that was Sunstreaker, Sideswipe raised a silencing hand, abruptly ending the heartfelt apology.

"Eh, we were actually kinda asking for it… but you've been doing good, Spike." Sideswipe stated evenly, even as his voice was muffled. Sunstreaker weakly nodded in agreement, while Spike's face became a mask of incredulity.

"You… you're not mad at me?" he clearly didn't believe this. It had to be a trick…

"We never said _that_, Spike. We're just saying it's nice to know you've got some potential," Sunstreaker clarified, and then grinned wickedly. "After all, now that we know what you're capable of, I think it would be better for you to start training with the Dinobots." Sideswipe chuckled evilly at this thought, while Spike had the good sense to look sufficiently horrified.

"Aw hell…" Spike groaned, putting his fingers to his temples, feeling a headache build. Sideswipe continued chuckling like some form of crimson demon.

"You toss around your training instructors, you pay the price. Now off with ya. You're done with us… for now," Sideswipe informed him as he and his brother began to collect themselves, wobbly standing up and straightening out. Privately, Spike wasn't convinced that they were really all that okay with his actions… even as he turned and left, he got the sinking sensation that his next few days on Ark would be spent getting put through an entire gauntlet worth of pranks and tricks, a perfect compliment to the upcoming training rounds with the Dinobots he would face. Deciding at this point that he was too tired to care, Spike allowed his thoughts to drift to the inviting image of a nice warm recharge berth.

As the now targeted "dead-mech-walking" left the room, Sunstreaker turned his head trying to look down his back as he inspected his body. "Hey, Sides, any sign of a ding? My paint job alright? Don't leave me in the dark here…" Sideswipe squashed a mischievous grin before it formed.

"Oh Primus… Sunny, you've got the mother of all scratches on your back…" Sideswipe stood back, adopting a totally horrified look upon his face as he pointed at his brother. Sunstreaker's reaction would have seemed more appropriate on a man who had just been told that he had lost a limb; shocked, then twisting into a rage-filled mask of raw hatred and vengeance.

"THAT SLAGGING EX-SQUISHIE! I'M GONNA RIP HIM SEVEN NEW EXHAUST PORTS WHEN I'M DONE WITH HIM! I'M GONNA-" Sunstreaker's bellowing voice suddenly softened as the sound of poorly suppressed laughter graced his audios. He turned slowly, the realization dawning that had had just been played by his vermillion counterpart. He glared balefully at his grinning sibling.

"You're an afthead, you know that?" he growled out. Sideswipe merely gave him a winning smirk.

"Only when you give me ammo, bro."

* * *

And the day after that, weapons training was handled by Hound…

Naturally, his lesson was outside in the Ark's open range combat training area.

"Now, first of all, we have to discuss your new weapons array," the Jeep explained to his pupil, who was, at the moment, politely taking in his words without issue. Spike liked the nature-loving Autobot, and what he liked even more was the fact that Hound wasn't having a chuckle at his expense, driving him insane with ego-driven tales of former exploits OR goading him into attacking him with a fury that was best left alone. Nope, Hound actually had the consideration to give him the time to adjust to his surroundings. "Wheeljack explained to me that, somehow, your dad was able to create some kind of mega-powered energy generator. I'm not entirely sure just how Sparkplug accomplished this, and with spare parts no less, but the fact is… you're packing a lotta power. And most of it was unfocused - spread throughout your body rather then kept in a single generator…" Spike looked down at his hands in mild awe. He hadn't really considered the power that had lay at his fingertips at the time of his initial activation, nor afterwards. But he could recall how many different weapons he'd had at his disposal….

"Holy moley…" he breathed out, suddenly feeling… perhaps a little afraid. When he had been off his rocker, it seemed natural to have such destructive potential. Not to mention what it took to create such power.

_Jesus, does this mean I'm a walking nuclear reactor? _Spike looked at Hound as the sinister tendrils of panic began to work their way into his mind. The tracker merely smiled and placed a comforting hand to Spike's shoulder, the calming effect immediate.

"Don't worry, Spike. Ratchet and Wheeljack told me that they reconfigured the energy output in your body. It's all nice and concentrated in the usual generator. Still, you DO have a lot." He stepped away from the now curious Spike, unspacing a remote control of some sort. A click of a button later, a rotund hovering drone came into view as a ground based compartment opened up and released it. "Okay Spike, your main weapons are built in, from what I've been told. When you're ready…"

Hound did not need to say more. Spike focused on the target drone, then focused on himself; trying to remember how he'd used his weapons the last time. It had happened so fast, so quickly… he wasn't sure if he even knew how to use this new array.

_Come on weapons, activate! Fire! Spike says, ACTIVATE!_

… _Pretty please activate? _

A sudden 'klik', and Spike's head shot down to look at his forearm - both of his forearms. From hidden compartments built into the appendages, mounted blasters had appeared, shining silver in the sunlight. His optics shuttered in a "blink". "Okaaay…" he drawled uncertainly. Pointing one of the arm-mounted weapons at the target, he concentrated and…

A sudden beam of yellow light poured from the tip of cannon, streaking though the air and obliterating the target in a brilliant explosion. Spike smirked to himself, it was all coming back to him.

"Good work, Spike," Hound encouraged, pleased with the results. "You're doing great. Now, let's see how you do with moving targets…" Another press of the button and another drone hovered, only this one was bobbing and weaving about in a manner akin to that of an agitated wasp. Spike took careful aim, and discovered to his delight that he had a targeting system; even IF he found the text messages across his vision a tad disorienting, it aided him greatly. With care, he took aim and….

Once again, a beam of light, a brilliant burst of crimson, and applause from Hound. "Excellent work! You're really getting the hang of this." Hound and Spike would perform this routine for about an hour or so

"Let's move on to multiple targets." This time the scout pressed a combination of buttons, releasing several more moving drones into range. At this, Spike found himself getting a wee bit frustrated… then, he recalled something from when he had blasted away at Optimus Prime, when he was still under Megatron's influence. He wondered if they took that away when they rebuilt him…

He waited for the drones to bunch up, concentrated and…

The headlights on his chest lighted up as twin beams of pure light shot out at the drones, far more powerful then the beams from his arms. It was a significantly more destructive than the last two demonstrations, enough to cause Hound to shield his optics with an arm. Strangely, Spike remained motionless as he gazed into the sanguine blaze he created.

_If only that was Megatron… if only… _Spike thought sadly, wishing nothing more that it had been his murderer at the receiving end of the powerful blast rather then expendable drones. But now he knew that he had the power to… hurt Megatron, he could at least hope for that much. For now, he contented himself pretending that Megatron's deactivated body was inside the flames, bubbling and melting into a silvery pool of slag…

Caught up by the flames and the twisted fantasy of Megatron's demise, and with Hound trying to modify his optical relays to compensate for the sudden brightness, neither of them realized that they were being watched.

From his hiding perch in a tree, Laserbeak congratulated himself on a job well done. For the last few days now he had been following around this new Auobot, shadowing him and recording information on his abilities and training. Each day for the last three days he had done this, and each day he brought back new footage for his lord and master's observation. This latest addition to was sure to bring him more praise, he knew it!

_Megatron will be happy. And if he's happy, Soundwave is happy, and if Soundwave is happy I get to gloat to those odious little punk wannabe twins… _

With that in mind, Laserbeak took to the skies and left Spike and Hound to continue with Spike's training, heading away from the headquarters of his enemies toward the ocean, where Megatron and accolades would await him.

* * *

Contrary to what Laserbeak had believed, Megatron was _not _happy.

As he gazed at the on-screen display of Laserbeak's latest recordings, it was becoming evident to most that Megatron was as _un_happy as he could get. His fists clenched and unclenched. His optics burned bright bloody red as his dental plates ground together, and his face began to twitch spastically.

It was all coming apart right in front of him. His scheme had started out so brilliantly… initially when he had vaporized Spike's body he had expected a strong reaction. When Spike ran off and actually started raiding power plants… it had been perfect, absolutely perfect. For days on end Megatron had laughed mirthfully. The mere thought of the agony the Autobots were going through during the hunt for their wayward friend filled him with a joy he hadn't felt in a long while, especially not since being stranded on earth. Even better, with Spike serving as an adequate distraction, energon raids had been yielding higher rates of success. He even had more then enough material to gloat over Starscream with, rubbing salt into the sizeable wounds that had developed in the Air Commander's ego at the success of Megatron's plan.

And now…

"Now we have yet another Autobot to contend with!" Starscream's derisive shriek echoed across the command deck, causing Megatron to mentally cringe at the sound of it. He didn't need this right now, he really didn't… but, unfortunately for all involved, Starscream had never developed a concept of when it was a bad time to try Megatron's patience. "I told you this would happen, didn't I? But did you listen? Noooo, you had to continue your moronic scheme anyways! How you got to be leader…"

Skywarp and Thundercracker, both of whom had retreated a respectable distance at the first signs of their leader's legendary temper threatening to boil over, tried desperately to silence Starscream nonverbally. Thundercracker waved his hands and shook his head rapidly while Skywarp made a "cut" motion across his neck, both of them attempting to dissuade their Air Commander and friend from continuing his frankly suicidal course.

Naturally, Starscream didn't get the hint.

"Why so silent, Megatron? Petro-rabbit got your vocaliszer? I demand you answer me now! Tell me EXACTLY how you're still fit to lead after this latest-AAAGH!!!"

Starscream's tirade was rudely interrupted by the sound of a feral snarl as Megatron whirled to face him, arm cannon already charged. Pure, purple malevolence spewed forth from the weapon and struck Starscream directly in the center of his chassis, the force of the blast sending him hurtling into a wall and sliding down… leaving a sickly trail of spilt energon. Megatron's head snapped to face Skywarp and Thundercraker, the seeker duo nearly leaping out of their armor at the movement.

"Take him to the Constructicons for repairs, _now!_" The twin jets were gone practically before the order was issued, with Starscream's unconscious and likely dying form in tow. Soundwave, keeping to the shadows of the command deck, remained motionless and silent during the display, while Megatron reviewed the recordings with slit optics.

"He's still a child," he growled out loud. "Still a human child in an Autobot shell. I have not created another Autobot warrior, I've simply made another mouth for them to feed!" he proclaimed this with absolute certainty - the kind used by those who could not even conceive of having erred in something. "I'll show those bleeding heart imbeciles the error of their ways... SOUNDWAVE!" he twirled around and pointed to the blue communications officer, who even now remained like a statue. "Once Starscream is repaired, I want you to fetch him and the rest of the Seekers! We're all going out for a little… exercise." Megatron's deranged expression and twisted smile would have made most mechs faint, but not Soundwave. Slamming his hand against his chassis in salute, Soundwave wordlessly made his way down the hall and to the Constructicons workshop. Megatron turned around and simply glared at the display of Spike's abilities. "I'll show the Autobots the true extent of their error in accepting that freak into their ranks…" he said quietly, to no one in particular. His formerly enraged mindset was now replaced by visions of destruction and broken Autobot bodies, of imagined tortures to inflict on this newest member of the Autobots. He began Autobot Spike, and he would END Autobot Spike.

The reckoning would come upon him, and it would come courtesy of Megatron's cannon.


	9. Confidence

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Nine: Confidence **

Optimus Prime had realized even before Spike's unveiling that there would be those among his troops who would have objections to the former-human's presence. He had steeled himself for the moment - the inevitable moment - when one of them would finally vocalize their lack of enthusiasm regarding the latest addition to the Autobot ranks.

Hence the reason he was now listening to his head of security give him an audiofull.

"Sir, with all do respect I must protest Spike's continued inclusion in our forces! I know you've given me assurances straight from the mouths of those who worked on him, but I am not at all convinced that all is as right with him as you claim! For all we know, he could STILL be dangerously unstable…"

_I seem to recall similar notions being held about you, Red Alert, _Prime said wryly to himself but did not vocalize his thoughts to the paranoid security chief, instead sitting back and taking in everything that Red Alert had to say.

"… a potential security risk! He remains a wild card, Prime. I've seen it in his optics. I've been doing a careful examination of his behavior through the security tapes, and I just KNOW he's going to snap and take us down with him. He's hazardous, Prime, and we should not allow him to put our forces in danger. It's just too reck-"

"Enough," Prime lifted a hand and cut his subordinate off. "Your words have merit, Red Alert. That much I know. However, if I were to follow your current line of reasoning, then I should perhaps bar the Dinobots from combat duties as well." Red Alert gave an indignant sputter.

"That is completely different from what I'm talking about!" Prime merely raised an un-amused eyeridge.

"No, I do not believe is, Red Alert. The Dinobots have their problems, just as Spike has his, Sunstreaker his own, and, I might add, as do you." This last comparison had a particular amount of bite in it, enough to make Red Alert physically recoil as though slapped. "Despite the eccentricities and problems my troops may possess, they are all a part of this army for a reason, and they perform their duties with enough skill to succeed and even excel, despite whatever hang-ups they might posses. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, Red Alert?" Red Alert's optics narrowed and his fist clenched a little, one of the few times the security director had ever had to restrain himself from shrieking his true thoughts and feelings to his commanding officer. He sighed, his formerly agitated - nay hostile - posture slumping in defeat.

"Yes, Prime. I understand perfectly," he said in a hushed voice. However, this moment of humility lasted only for so long. Seconds later his posture resumed a more confident stance, one befitting a concerned head of security who knew he was right. "Let the record show, however, that I still think that entertaining the idea of allowing Spike to join us in battle is folly." And with that, he turned around on heel and exited the main office, allowing Prime himself a heavy sigh and the right to slump down in his chair.

Red Alert had been the first to make his opinions known, but, if anything, his coming out to Prime was only the calm before the monsoon. The Autobot commander was sure of it. Since Spike's inauguration, Prime had had Smokescreen keep a close optic on the Ark's occupants to peg down any potential troublemakers and smooth things over, or, barring that, at least keep Prime informed in case any of them seemed on the verge of doing something foolish. Especially worrisome was Smokescreen's note of Grimlock's unusual amount of silence on the issue - that his aggression towards Spike was being displayed in manners contrary to his normal methods of belligerence. Subtly was NOT in the Dinobot commander's vocabulary, and just what this might mean for Spike made Prime shiver a little.

Curiously enough though, Smokescreen seemed to be having problems getting a good read on Spike's own emotions. When Prime asked the most elusive of Autobots concerning this development, Smokescreen became startlingly withdrawn, even defensive; inadvertently revealing to his commander that quite frankly… he just couldn't figure Spike out. A dozen theories ran through Optimus' mind regarding this development, along with the implications that came with it. Whether or not this was a good thing, Prime had no comfortable answers for. For now he would simply accept it as one of those things that just were.

Another sigh escaped him as he straightened up in his chair before standing up and heading towards the door. The talk with Red Alert had been rather taxing for Prime, the knowledge that one of his higher-ups could potentially have it in for Spike a worrisome prospect. And right now, the best path to the realm of calm seemed to be a nice drink of energon. Idly, he wondered what the subject of the argument was up to at this very moment.

* * *

Ironically enough, the controversial subject himself was doing what Prime had been planning on doing.

When Spike had his first taste of energon, his first thoughts about it were… mixed to say the least. There wasn't a flavor, not in the sense that a human mind could define the term. Whereas humans could define the taste of something by comparing it to a past taste and flavor, Energon was… not so easily describable. It was possibly due to the nature of Spike's mouth, but quite frankly he thought now what he had thought during his first time tasting the precious fluid.

_Tastes like explosions, _he mused to himself. It was a confusing way of classifying it, but that was basically how energon tasted; as a less then tangible feeling that words failed to properly translate into human terms. Did that mean Spike _liked _energon?

The answer was; kind of.

Spike realized that, if he had been offered a similar kind of drink as a human, he most likely would have regulated it as a "sometimes" beverage, the kind of thing he would have had on a few occasions when his usual palette of drinks threatened to get stale. A bit of zing to satiate his tastebuds need for variety, but otherwise not a staple of his diet. However, with the change of bodies came a change of nutrition, and Spike found himself forcing down a substance he literally wouldn't have drunken twice otherwise. It wasn't so bad, but in all honesty they could have devised it with a bit more flavor. He grinned to himself at the thought.

_Flavored energon. Heh, I should try to make some of that, I really should. Grape energon, orange energon, strawberry energon, beef energon- wait, beef energon? That sounds wrong… but then again, I WOULD enjoy the taste of some nice roast beef again. As a matter of fact, I would enjoy actually TASTING stuff period. Its official then; flavored energon has made "the list", in-between beheading Megatron and turning back into a human._

His mind sufficiently distracted from the vibrant blandness of his now vanished energon, he stood up from his table and decided to head out of the lounge. He needed to brush up on cybertronian history, and thankfully this one didn't require the presence of a tutor, teacher, or other assorted education-inducing mech. This was the one part of his "how to be a transformer" training that he was allowed to pursue autonomously, and, as he had little to do at the moment, now seemed like as good a time as ever to catch up on roughly a billion years of cybertronian history or so.

Along the way he passed Prime, smiling and nodding a greeting to the commander as he made his way down the halls and to the data archives of the Ark - what the rest of the 'Bots had dubbed the library. Spike sighed a little; book-learning had never been a specialty of his outside of a few choice subjects. However, with the new body came a personal resolution to know more about his host people… and do what he didn't do as a human, learn about the past. As per usual given this line of thinking, Spike let out a sigh as a pang of regret ate at his mind. Oh, he was improving, that much he knew. He had gotten used to seeing everything as though it had been miniaturized, he had gotten used to seeing a face OTHER then his own every time he saw his reflection, he'd gotten used to not hearing his real voice when he spoke, he'd even gotten used to the practical sensory deprivation and cold, empirical statistics that came up every time his sensor arrays analyzed something. He was USED to all of that. And all it served to do deep down was make him yearn for his humanity even more. At the very least, he could comfort himself knowing that he could wait until a method was developed to send him back to the fold of the human race. Being nigh immortal was handy in that way…

Walking into the shadowy depths of the data archives immediately swept aside Spike's introspection. He put a hand to his chin in thought, "Hmm, where to start, where to start…" he murmured out loud. His central processing unit (_brain_, as he told himself) was already programmed to translate cybertronnian text into English for his benefit. From the point closest to him, he could see that he was in the "S" section of the archives. Given its convenience and proximity, Spike shrugged and pulled it out, deciding to start in on the "S's" of cybertron. It wasn't like he was a stickler for neatness after all.

Gazing upon the text held into the screen of the "Encyclopedia Cybertronica" yielded to him many details concerning cybertronian culture, some entertaining, some boring, and some inducing him to raise an eyebrow. It seemed as though there were some details concerning his Autobot benefactors that he had never guessed at being reality. It comforted him at some level to know of these things, it made the Autobots seem more… human, for lack of a better word.

And then he read up on Sparks. If what he garnered from the article held true, then a Spark was the cybertronian equivalent of a soul.

So that begged the question… what did Spike have, then?

In a single instant every barrier that had been built up, every anxiety that had been held back, every fear that had been supposedly conquered suddenly came crashing down like a dam shattered under the weight of a tidal wave as he felt his test tighten and a horrified chill dominate his every fiber of being…

* * *

Prime had been enjoying his energon, the fluid calming his nerves as it re-energized his weary body. He had nearly drained the cube when an urgent comm reached his audios, disrupting his moment of peace.

"_Prime, Bumblebee here. Ah, I've got a bit of a situation here… concerning Spike."_

Prime raised a brow at the message and at Bumblebee's voice. He sounded nervous… very, very nervous. And Spike was involved… pressing a hand to his own communicator, the Autobot leader gave his response. _"Understood. What is your present location, and what exactly is wrong with Spike?" _

"_At our quarters… Spike's been lurking around inside, mumbling to himself and I can't... he sounds so disturbed! Sparkplug has been trying to talk with him, but it's not working! You're our last hope…" _

"_Got it. On my way." _Prime cut the communication and was heading down the halls lickety-split, moving at a pace fast enough to get to his destination at a reasonable speed, but with enough measured slowness as not to alert any passersby. When he got to the quarters, the first sight that graced his optics was that of a visibly nervous Bumblebee and a concerned, very severe-looking Sparkplug. Both stood in front of the closed doors to Bumblebee's and Spikes quarters. Behind the closed door, a distinct and disturbing mumbling could be heard. Prime nodded to the two standing guard, "How long has this been going on?"

"I dunno, Prime," Sparkplug sighed. "He's been at it since I got here, and I got here only because Bumblebee here ran over to get my help with this," he jerked a thumb in the direction of the bug, who in turn shrugged. Prime put a hand to his plated chin as he began running the current scenario through his brain.

"I see… have either of you had ANY luck in communicating with him any at all?" Prime inquired, both human and Autobot shaking their heads in response.

"Nope, no luck, none whatsoever. I couldn't get so much as a peep of him," Sparkplug stated with a hint of despondence in his voice. His son had been making such progress, and now it seemed like in an instant it had all come unglued. Sparkplug wasn't sure how much more of this his nerves could take.

"Prime, the last time Spike was like this, he lashed out at anyone trying to help him with lethal force," Bumblebee explained. "I'm not sure if I could withstand his weaponry, and I'm not even going to risk Sparkplug getting killed. Spike would rip himself to pieces if either of us were harmed while he was like this."

"So it falls to me to talk with Spike then," Prime concluded on his own. He did not say this with annoyance, he understood the reasoning perfectly and agreed with it completely. "Very well, then. No matter what you two may hear, I want you to remain outside while I handle this."

"Yes, Prime," Bumblebee saluted his leader, while Sparkplug's face developed an irritated scowl.

"Now wait just a minute, Prime. I'm fine with you going in a trying to talk some sense into my boy, but if I so much as suspect that a fight has broken out, I'm calling in as many bots as necessary, you hear?" His tone was strangely final, a tone that was used countless times when he had to inform his son point blank that certain things would not be tolerated under any circumstances. In other words, something akin to a much quieter and gentler version of a drill sergeant. Prime gave a quick nod of agreement.

"Very well then. If it sounds as though things may get ugly, then it falls on the both of you to call security before anything can happen," he stated professionally, while the Volkswagen and human both gave their own nods, though Sparkplug's held a distinct element of satisfaction in it. With that, Prim turned and faced the door, mentally preparing himself for whatever may come next. He steeled himself for whatever sight would meet his optics as the door slid open and he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. It was dark, but for the optics of a transformer this was little problem. The mumbling that had been present earlier was now louder, and Prime found he had to suppress a cringe at the pitiful sight before him.

Spike was huddled in a corner, as far as his wings would allow him, knees to his chassis and arms around his legs as he shivered and mumbled incoherently. In front of him lay a datapad, the soft glow of its screen providing the only illumination in the otherwise inky depths of the room. "Spike… Spike, what's going on here? What's wrong?" As per usual, Prime's mellow voice emanated with compassion for his fellow organism, and normally that sheer level of kindness was enough to calm most beings. Spike however was in no state of mind to be susceptible to his friend's soothing voice, and simply continued his muttering and rocking back and forth in the fetal position, his mind now having left the building. Optimus adjusted his audios to get a better read on Spike's mutterings. What he heard disturbed him greatly.

"Notrealnotrealnotrealnotrealnot-" It continued on and on like that, a hollow, dead droning noise wrought from a broken mind. Optimus' eyeridges were now so high, his non-fleshly forehead should have wrinkled. He looked down at Spike, then found his optics trailing over to the datapad. Whatever was on that pad must have been what had caused Spike's breakdown. Keeping his optics trained on his currently crazed friend, he cautiously reached for it, taking it in his hands and gazing at the contents. A sole article was displayed - one dealing with Sparks.

Prime raised a ridge. _Sparks? How could this possibly affect him so terribly?_ He raised his head to meet Spike's blank gaze, and slowly moved closer to the catatonic Autobot. "Spike… what's wrong?" again he asked gently, and this time the empathy in his voice was enough to rouse Spike out of his fugue… at least enough to give him a straight answer.

"I don't exist… I'm not real…" he said in that same dead voice. Prime shuttered his optics in confusion and more than a little dread at the nihilistic statement.

"Spike… I fail to see how you don't exist, seeing as how I am talking to you this moment." He spoke diplomatically, hoping that maybe logic would bring Spike further out of this state. Somehow though, he knew it would not be so easy. It never could be easy for him, ever…

"Humans have souls… and transformers have sparks… what do I have, Prime?" Spike's face finally turned to face his commander's, his expression forlorn and… lost. "What do I have? How do I know if I have either of those things… how do I know that I'm not just memories? Just an electrical copy of Spike? I… how can I know..?" He looked like he would burst into tears, but as he no longer possessed that ability, he would simply have to content himself with looking like the utter epitome of misery. Prime stared at Spike for a moment… then started to chuckle heartily. Spike, too numb to be shocked by this, stared back at the suddenly jovial Prime, puzzlement in his optics.

"Oh ho, Spike," Prime began when he finally gained some composure. "Your fears are unwarranted… I _know _that you have a spark." Spike frowned at this, thinking Prime may have just lost it. The concept of the pot calling the tea kettle black was lost on Spike for the moment.

"Are you insane? How can you know!? A soul is intangible and leaves the body when it dies, so how can I-?"

"Hush, Spike," Prime raised a silencing hand, "and I will explain to you. You are aware of the Matrix of Leadership, correct?" Spike nodded numbly, vaguely recalling an explanation given by Prime on the bauble in his chest. "Well then, allow me to refresh your memory concerning the Matrix. The Matrix of Leadership is rumored to contain a bit of the essence of Primus, the creator god of all transformers. Whether or not this is true, I am not sure… but what I am sure of is this. Since the Matrix was passed down to me, I have been able to detect the presence of Sparks within mechanisms, deciphering whether or not they are truly alive or merely drones." He paused and gave Spike time to take in all this, before continuing, "What most do not realize, is that Sparks are made from the same life energy that empowers all sentient beings, the same energy that separates intelligent life from non-intelligent, making them truly 'alive'. In short Spike, I am able to detect souls."

Spike's optics widened at this revelation. He wasn't entirely sure if he believed what Prime was telling him… but then, much of the past week was unbelievable. Not to mention he somehow knew that Prime wasn't lying. He straightened out his legs and stood up slowly. "And… and do you see that in me?" he asked quietly.

Prime nodded, smiling gently behind the faceplate. "I've seen it in you ever since you transferred bodies. When your mind left your human body, so did the light of your soul. When Autobot-X's body came to house your mind, it took the soul with it. Believe me when I say this, you are indeed alive. And you are most certainly real."

Spike gazed at Prime for a moment… then slowly, allowed himself to smile. He was still not sure if he believed, but he would take the assurances where he could get them. Suddenly, waves of humiliation assaulted his psyche as he bowed his head, placing a hand behind it. "I… I've been acting reeeeally stupid, haven't I?"

Prime chuckled again, putting a hand to Spike's shoulder. "I wouldn't call it stupidity, but I _would_ call it rash. You need to stop doubting yourself like this, it isn't healthy - for you or for those who care about you." Spike raised his head and simply nodded in understanding, letting his hand now hang to the side.

"Dad and Bumblebee are outside right now, aren't they?" Spike sighed, smiling sadly.

"Yes," Prime nodded, while Spike shook his head and started to chuckle himself.

"Oh man… what I must have been putting those two through... what's say I go show them there's nothing wrong with me anymore?" He finally regained his confidant posture and tone, a determined smirk on his face. Prime stood to the side and silently allowed Spike to pass him. A night trademarked 'whish' noise signified the opening of the door, Spike now stood before his father and friend, both of whom where now alert at the sight of the formerly babbling Spike. Bumblebee was the first to speak.

"Spike, what happened? Are you okay?" Sparkplug's voice soon followed.

"Yeah, son, tell us. What's up?" Spike chuckled and kneeled down before the two, bringing them to a more comfortable level as Prime made his way out from the shadows of the room, practically materializing from the darkness.

"Well, long story short, I had a little fit of questioning the nature of existence. But, I'm good now… Prime offered me an explanation, one that I'm not entirely sure that I understand. But, like I said… I'm good now." Sparkplug cocked his head curiously, still eyeing his son warily.

"You're SURE you're alright now, son? No chance of this happening again anytime soon?" he asked carefully, wanting to make sure of his son's mental health. Spike chuckled heartily at his father's question.

"Definitely sure, Dad. No chance of this happening anytime within the week." Bumblebee crossed his arms and assumed a mock scolding expression.

"Well, good thing. You have any idea how worried Sparkplug and I have been?" Spike again chuckled, and this time surprised both man and machine by taking them into a light, carefully-executed hug.

"Oh, I have an idea, and I'm sorry for making you two fret over my acting silly," Spike said with an apologetic smile, while both human and Volkswagen tried to extract themselves from the gargantuan Autobot's arms - albeit halfheartedly.

"Well, so long as you're all right now," Sparkplug smiled, ceasing his frankly pathetic attempts to get away and giving his son a heartfelt hug, or at least as much a hug as he could manage given his son's size. Bumblebee was about to get another word in, when suddenly Teletraan-1's alert system went off, security klaxons blaring loud enough to cause all involved to gaze up. Spike let his friend and father go, standing up with a grim expression on his face as this meant only one thing.

_Decepticons._

Wordlessly, the three mechanisms and sole human rushed down to the control room. Prowl was already at Teletraan-1's controls. The computer blared out the situation for those that would hear it, "ALERT, DECEPTICON FORCES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED AT THE SAMSON INC. OIL FIELDS. SUGGEST-" As it continued, more Autobots joined in the room, soon crowding the place while Spike gazed upon the Teletraan-1s reconnaissance pictures in open-mouthed horror. Decepticons were not particularly careful in their raids, but more often then not they were more concerned about getting in, gathering energon, and getting out. This time though…

The screens showed buildings set ablaze or crumbled to ruin while humans scattered in all directions, terrified for their lives. Ramjet and Thrust could be seen cheerfully rampaging across the oil field's executive buildings and having a merry old laugh over it. Spike was so enthralled by the disgusting sight that he almost didn't hear Prime finish up calling upon those bots to join with him in the inevitable rescue effort.

"-and Jazz. Alright Autobots, transform and roll-"

"I'm coming with you." Prime froze in mid wave and gazed down at Spike, who held a deadly serious expression normally not associated with him.

"Spike, I'm not entirely sure that you are ready for this," Prime said diplomatically, only to have his words brushed aside like so much garbage.

"Believe me Prime, I'm ready… I've never BEEN more ready for anything in my life." Spike's hard gaze met Prime's calmer gaze, their optics locked onto each other. The others in the room tensed, as if they half-expected Spike to lose his temper and attack their leader… until Prime let out a relenting sigh.

"Very well, Spike, but you must promise me that you will not allow yourself to get carried away out on the battlefield. I am more then aware of your feelings concerning the Decepticons, but if you wish to aid us in our fights against them you must learn restraint. Am I clear?," he was very serious as he spoke, and Spike's rapid nod spoke volumes of his agreement.

"Yes, sir. I promise, crystal clear to me, sir."

Sparkplug walked up and put a hand to Spike's leg, his very being radiating concern.

"Son, I ain't gonna stop you from going, but please promise me that you'll be careful. I don't wanna lose you…" Spike's head tilted down a fraction and gave his father a reassuring smile.

"I will, Dad. I promise…" It was an infinitely more sincere and heartfelt vow then the rather hastily executed promise the human-cum-Autobot had given Prime, and it was enough for Sparkplug to give a relieved sigh.

"Yo, bots, as much as I enjoy witnessin' such a touching scene, we got 'Cons to clobber!" Jazz's urgent voice brought everyone's attention back to the matter of hand. Prime nodded severely.

"Indeed. Autobots, transform and roll out!" With the tried and true personal battle cry of Optimus Prime, those bots present - Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and now Spike - all assumed their vehicle modes and sped down the halls of the Ark with Optimus himself taking the lead. Once they were outside, Spike transformed into his secondary vehicle mode and took to the skies. Despite what he had said to Optimus, there was only ONE thought on his mind, one mission planned.

_You die today, Megatron… I swear that I'll kill you, and any Decepticon that gets in my way! You will not leave this one, Megatron! Never again… _

These murderous thoughts kept to himself and himself alone, Spike stayed close to the strike-force, resisting the urge to fly ahead and simply blast at anything that might bear a Decepticon insignia.

* * *

And while our intrepid group of Autobots rushed to save the day once again, something was stirring deep within the systems of Ark.

It had been lucky, yes, it had been _very_ lucky to manage download itself inside Ark's computer mainframe when the scientist had tried so very hard to annihilate it. It had laid low during the initial days of its liberation, being required to lurk in the darkest corners of cyberspace lest the ever-alert Teletraan-1's security systems rooted it out. It had to be careful. It had only just gained its freedom, and it would not BLOW its second chance, not when there were so many options before it.

Spike had called it Noise. Others called it Autobot-X. Since at this point it was obviously not an Autobot, it decided to call itself by the simple, overused moniker of "X".

X knew it had done well so far, oh yes it had. It had evaded them so well, no one even suspected that it yet lived. Or that it had developed a most… interesting talent. X found it humorous how Wheeljack and Perceptor would always log away their various creations, schematics and all. So easily accessed, they were. And so very interesting to read… X found itself developing quite a knack for technology and the like. And with so many source materials at its disposal, by X's own estimation it would be just as good - no, _better _then any of the Ark scientists by the end at the month when it came to machinery. However, interesting as all that was, this was not the interesting talent.

X had discovered that, if it was careful, it could override Teletraan-1's control and take over of some the Ark's components. And the best part was that it was learning how to do this without setting off any alarms! A string of mechanical failures within the Ark had occurred shortly after X had discovered that it could operate on a small-scale with relative impunity. It took a particular level of sadistic joy in knowing how Wheeljack almost blew a gasket trying to figure out why things were going wrong when nothing was technically broken! Oh yes, X had been a very mirthful, malignant personality remnant after that.

Juvenile testing of its abilities aside, X did in fact have a plan in motion. It was weak for now, and despite the progress it had made, it still ran the risk of being discovered by Teletraan-1. But soon, very soon, things would fall into place…

X would get its body back. And it knew precisely how it was going to go about this.

It was a good thing the Autobots never really paid attention to the spare parts locker…


	10. The Dam Breaks

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Ten: The Dam Breaks **

_**Authors Note: **So very sorry this took so long. Had a nasty case of writer's block. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so LONG._

* * *

Fire.

Destruction.

Chaos.

The screams of fear and pain as people tried to escape the devastation, the sheer desperation in their cries and their actions…

…honestly, was there ever a time in Megatron's long life when he _didn't _relish this kind of thing? Where he did not utterly adore the orchestra of violence and agony that was warfare and single-sided victory?

He allowed himself a cruel chuckle as he watched his troops unleash their own personal brands of devastation against the humans. He stood a fair distance from the site where most of his troops had congregated, keeping his hands strangely clean on this one. Soundwave, stoic and unmoving as a mountain, stood by his side as per normal while his cassettes joined the rest in monstrous party, raucously announcing their despicable delights through high pitched cackles as they set to work. The old tyrant noted with some amusement that human authorities had arrived on the scene, trying desperately to provide cover for civilians while said civilians tried to escape. A noble, but futile strategy….

Normally, there would be some semblance of a plan at work, some strategy to yield a form of profit for the Decepticons on earth. This time, however, Megatron was doing something most peculiar, and most wasteful; he was allowing his mechs to run roughshod - to have a moment of "free time" as it were. He could see all of them acting out their roles dutifully; even that wretched whiner Starscream was enjoying himself with a little creative havoc. However, in all his troops, there was one glaring deviation; Thundercracker. While the others truly, truly loved to terrify and murder the rather unfortunate organic rulers of this planet, Thundercracker was… soft, so to speak. He had always BEEN soft, always had doubts about the true meaningfulness of his work with the Decepticons. Of course, such dissidence would not be tolerated by his fellows, and he did well to hide this; blasting away at buildings he KNEW to have been evacuated, looking like he was actually contributing to this brutality.

He did not fool Megatron for an instant. The canny old warlord was more than aware of Thundercracker's nigh-treasonous thinking and his rather soft approach with the humans. The fact was, so long as this did not interfere with his duties as a Decepticon or blossom into actual treachery, then Megatron could not have given a damn. After all, he kept Starscream around didn't he? And Starscream was FAR more obvious in his thoughts and actions then Thundercracker.

But, back to the devastation…

There was a reason behind it, as there was always a reason behind Megatron's actions and schemes. He knew, quite frankly, that he was wasting an opportunity to collect exponential amounts of energon; he knew that he was LOSING more then he was gaining from this little exercise in brutality, from allowing his soldiers to vent their frustrations. However, in doing so he was creating such a delightful amount of chaos, enough to separate a certain… abomination from the oncoming Autobot herd. Yes, while his foolish patrons tried their best to keep his people safe from the Decepticons, Spike would be lost out there on the battlefield, confused and angry and more than likely spoiling for a fight with Megatron. The former gladiator knew that he was coming; he had been pulling out all the stops to ignite the boy's rage, and, knowing Optimus Prime, he would surely be a part of the Autobot task force being sent this way as his troops devastated to their sparks delight.

In personal combat Megatron would correct… the mistake. It was not HIS mistake, the continued existence of the nigh-blasphemous human-turned-Transformer. No, it was the Autobots; they could not bring themselves to kill him, not even when he attacked them and showed himself to be a threat - to be practically unhinged at the metal. No, rather than do that, they did the usual soppy, soft-sparked thing that was typical for them and took him in… they even gave him a body that could be looked at! As if he could pretend he was normal, rather then a misbegotten freak who's continued existence stemmed only from Autobot pity! And for those reasons… for those reasons alone, he was first going to make that miserable ex-flesh creature suffer first; witnessing firsthand the inability of the Autobots to truly defend his wretched little people from the predations of the Decepticons. And once that fact sunk in…. Megatron would finish him off.

It was actually kind of refreshing to direct his hatred towards something OTHER then Optimus Prime for a change, Megatron mused as he watched yet another spectacular explosion light up the area, courtesy of Thrust. And in watching that, his vermillion optics caught the unmistakable images of distant vehicles heading straight for this site, several ground-bound… and one flyer. He grinned maliciously.

It was time.

"Soundwave." He turned his head to face the aforementioned tapedeck. "I want you to keep Optimus Prime busy for me." The helm-molded head once again returned to view the oncoming Autobot assault force. "No one is to get between me and Spike, understand? No one." The communications officer nodded dully, obediently, like he always did.

"As you command, Megatron," he droned almost lifelessly as he took to the field and readied himself for the Autobot commander. Megatron simply allowed himself a sinister chuckle and continued to wait, far away from the main field. First Spike would bask in the glorious carnage the Decepticons could inflict, and then….

Megatron would end him. Permanently.

* * *

Even in the distance, he could see the smoke. It hovered over the oil field, a black, billowing testament to the Decepticons' destructive capabilities and an early warning for local authorities not to intervene. Not that it had stopped the police from doing so, as evidenced by the half-melted police cars scattered about. 

It took all of his willpower, all of his self control not to speed ahead on his own and start blasting away at anything with a Decepticon insignia on it. Somehow, Spike was able to restrain himself, though at the sight of the flames he almost lost it then and there. Through the comm system he heard Optimus Prime talk strategy, speaking directing into the heads of the Autobots as they drew closer. On another occasion Spike would have been startled, even frightened by the transmission and the sensation of having someone seem to speak directly into his mind. But… right now, there were more important things to worry about then new discoveries concerning his body. He only barely heard and understood the plan. His mind was blanketed with hatred and rage at this point.

"…_understand that? Good. Engage them one on one and draw them away from the fields and the humans. Now…" _

In his rage, Spike had not noticed that they were now alarmingly close. With this jarring revelation he prepared himself and steeled his nerves as the ever classic battle cry rang over even the sounds of screams and explosions.

"Autobots, transform and attack!!!"

Despite the order, Spike did NOT transform, deciding to play the role of aerial support while all around him his counterparts transformed and charged into their ancient enemy The Decepticons, emboldened by the rush of their "fun" actually gave a loud roar and gleefully charged back at their hated foes. One thing Spike noted was that, rather than Megatron, it was Soundwave who engaged the Autobot leader. Spike was instantly on alert, all of his senses straining for any sign of Megatron, any at all.

However, fate seemed to have other plans for him. Rather then the aspen tyrant, Spike found a foe in the familiar form of a white jet with well known tendencies towards kamikaze tactics; Ramjet. Thankfully, the destruction happy Deception was apparently lacking the sufficient mood to simply live up to his name and crash into his only available aerial opponent, contenting himself with opening fire on his formerly human foe. "HEY SQUISHIE!" he bellowed as he rained down destruction towards his foe. "Welcome to the war!"

Spike almost yelped, but was able to keep his wits about him, enough so that he was able to evade the deadly blasts and offer his own attack. Picturing Megatron to be in place of the thick-plated seeker, he prepped a pair of missiles, locked onto the coneheaded flyer and let loose a barrage, eager to see Ramjet (now serving as a Megatron's proxy) blown to pieces. Ramjet however was a veteran of the skies, clumsier than the likes of Thundercracker or Starscream, but still with millennia of experience under his belt. Cackling wildly, the seeker evaded the frankly clumsy attack and let loose a barrage of laserfire at Spike. Realizing that he could not evade this attack, Spike braced himself for impact, telling himself he would not scream…

…and he didn't. Text flashed across his optics informing him of the damage dealt, and he had felt a feint buzzing sensation, but, all in all, it appeared that his sensory deprivation extended to pain as well. He knew that attack should have caused him to at least make _some_ sound. He had seen transformers scream in pain when shot. But this did nothing for him… nothing at all.

"What the…?" Ramjet murmured in confusion, 'staring' dumbly at the damaged yet apparently undisturbed Witwicky. Taking advantage of the jet's momentary hesitation, Spike delivered his own series of plasma blasts. Unlike Ramjet's own attack, Spike's weaponry not only found their mark, but also elicited a cry of shock and agony from the jet as he was sent spiraling out of control, transforming in mid-air and landing flat on his stomach. From Spike came a hearty chuckle, shortly before he gazed down at the battlefield, trying to find another opponent to fight. His attentions were then drawn to a certain, ground-bound purple seeker - one who had enjoyed playing "squishie toss" with Spike when he had been human.

Skywarp was alone; and still firing into buildings, having somehow missed the cue that an Autobot attack was commencing. Spike narrowed his hidden optics and flew down, transforming in midair.

Skywarp was going DOWN.

* * *

For Skywarp, the mission was like a dream come true. A total demolition derby, uninhibited by the usual constraints of time and energon production capita per minute. And what was better, Skywarp had somehow fallen under the Autobots radar! Now, deep down he knew he SHOULD have been helping his fellow 'Cons and ganging up on a prospective victim… but, instead, he allowed his more joyful, sadistic side to take control as he continued to blast at random at the fleeing humans, taking puerile joy in their terror and fear. He idly wondered if maybe, just maybe, any of his blasts would connect with the fleeing fleshlings. 

_Heh! That would be so COOL to see_.

He then noticed that a mother and two children were desperately trying to get away from the carnage, to not be counted among the rampaging Decepticons' victims. A twisted smile found its way on Skywarp's face, one that would have done even his supposedly more mentally diseased friend Starscream quite proud. Few seemed to recall accurately that Skywarp, even prior to his recruitment to the Decepticons had been a rather nasty individual, one who vented his sadistic tendencies on those unable or unwilling to defend themselves; namely Autobot civilians. And for him, victimizing humans was even better…

He leveled his arm-mounted weapon towards the retreating trio and took aim… however, he failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps, and failed to realize that the shadow that suddenly loomed over him was NOT caused by clouds; in his desire to sate his lust for devastation, he failed to remember that there were no clouds out this day. It was only the split second after he heard the animalistic roar of rage and felt the unholy pain of something being punched through his wing did he get the message that something was amiss.

A scream of pain echoed across the battlefield, Skywarp's desperate and confused cry mingling with berserk grunts and snarls. The purple and black seeker suddenly found himself thrust roughly to the ground, his shrieks of pain growing louder and the undeniable sound of metal tearing soon heightening the combined yells and roars into a disturbing crescendo of agony as the seeker felt whatever it was that had punctured his wings now roughly withdrew. Skywarp, in more pain then he had ever been in his entire life, got to his hands and knees, out of the corner of his optic did he spot a hulking form nearly silhouetted against the bright earthian sun, its blue optics burning bright and illuminating a face so twisted with rage and hatred that it could have frightened Megatron himself. It took Skywarp a moment, but he recognized the form, so much like a larger, mutated version of the Autobot tactician Prowl….

"_You…!" _he spat, glaring harshly up at Spike. This was unbelievable! The…the slagging HUMAN had done this to him?! No way, not in this lifetime! He raised a gun-bearing arm up at Spike, determined not to allow this humiliating display of karmic retribution continue on… only to scream yet again as a huge, deep blue foot came crashing down onto his arm, crunching it into scrap. Spike's psychotically hateful glare remained transfixed on Skywarp, even as the seeker was forced back onto the ground, pinned under the foot that had just rendered his arm useless.

"You… cowardly…evil…" Spike's words soon dissolved into another animalistic roar, while Skywarp clawed at the earthen ground, trying desperately to get away from the crazed mechanism that currently had him pinned. Spike's midnight colored hands shot down and gripped Skywarp's wings painfully, and as he pulled them he pushed down with his foot. Normally, Skywarp's desperate pleas and cries of pain would have given Spike pause for thought - his current activities the sort of thing that would have sickened and revolted him to his core. But right now, he saw none of it, his vision having turned red as he pulled, and pulled, and…

The sound of metal tearing was heard, along with an agonized scream.

In Spike's hands did Skywarp's wings remain… now completely separated from the unfortunate jet's body. Skywarp himself, his pain receptors having been stimulated and stretched beyond their normal capacity, blacked out and lay motionless on the ground. Spike's rage however was not abated. He looked around for a victim… when he was suddenly hurled back by the force of a sickeningly familiar energy blast hitting him directly in the chest. A yelp escaped him, and perversely beautiful orange flames caused by the damage dealt to him nearly overloaded his optic sensor arrays' capacity… but still, he did not _hurt_, not even with the fair part of his chest blown open. It was an inappropriate time to do so, but Spike just could not help himself as he gazed down in bemusement at his damaged, yet practically painless form. While he did that, though, a huge form loomed over him and a black, arm-cannon aimed down at him, lacking its usual glint due to the smoke overhead.

"Well, Autobot Spike… it would seem your transformation has given you some bite after all," Megatron chuckled, not moving his cannon an inch. Spike, now at the mercy of the beast, found himself in a state of shock. He had pictured himself doing more in this position, screaming defiance or spiting his murderer with a look of sheer indefatigable fearlessness. But instead, he felt… numb, as the weight of the situation finally dawned on him. He was at the mercy of a warlord with millennia of fighting experience behind him. All of the other Autobots were busy fighting the Decepticons. He was practically alone…

The tyrant continued to speak.

"But enough about that. I suppose you're wondering why I went through all this, why I decided to simply let my soldiers run roughshod over this puny facility, rather than swoop in and take the energon it could produce… don't deny it, I KNOW you're curious." Megatron rambled. Spike still stared up at him, and most importantly at the cannon that was most likely poised the blow Spike into oblivion. "I'll tell you why; to remind you that you're still useless in the grand scheme of things. Human or Autobot… you're still a liability, an annoyance at best and lower then an insect at worst…" the tyrant hissed, vermillion optics narrowed.

Spike's optics widened at the revelation. That was what this was about? People's lives snuffed out… over that? Maintaining the status quo?! Making sure he knew his _place?! _Inside, he felt a rage build up as his frame began to shake and vibrate furiously. Megatron did not seem to notice the change in demeanor.

"Of course, you can take some satisfaction in knowing what it was like to be an organism of worth, to feel elevation and liberation from the pitiful constraints of your meat-sack race." Megatron smiled nastily as he charged his cannon, ready to deliver the death blow, "In that sense, you should _thank _me for obliterating your original body…"

Several things happened at once. A feral scream escaped Spike's vocalizer. Megatron suddenly found himself knocked off his feet and pinned under the massive bulk of an enraged Autobot, his arm cannon fired into the sky rather then finishing off Spike once and for all… and then came the fists.

The endless, unbelievable flurry of fists.

Before Megatron could collect himself or even process what had just happened, he felt his frame quake and squeak in agony as massive black fists bludgeoned his chassis and his face, already creating dents in his frame and even tearing open a few patches in his armor. Megatron struck back, his arm lashing out and meeting Spike's face… Spike did not relent. Megatron suddenly found himself screaming as Spike's hand TORE the arm cannon from him, viciously and hatefully. Megatron could see it, the hate in his optics, now glowing and blazing a cold azure. Spike's hand again slammed down onto Megatron's frame, fingers digging into armor and breaking away the metal like old clay, clasping a large chunk and ripping it away with a sickening squeal of shredding alloys. The human-cum-Autobot was in a rage now, a rage that eclipsed all the previous episodes he'd had during the initial days of his transformation….

Not since his days in the gladiatorial ring had Megatron seen such ferocity… a lifetime of fighting mostly pacifist Autobots made him forget what it was like to face a foe who, not only wanted him dead, but wanted him hurt. The memories of the ring came back in a flash, and Megatron somehow was able to kick the massive brute off of him. With Spike now on his back, Megatron dove on top of him and launched his own assault. Soon they were both on their feet, fighting with a fierceness and sheer sadistic hatred that had never been seen in any of Megatron's fights against Prime.

It was raw ferocity versus experience as the two went at it, punching and kicking and screaming their battle cries. They no longer acknowledged the rest of the world as their fighting intensified, Spike's entire world now focused on Megatron. Hurting Megatron, killing Megatron, slaughtering Megatron… this was all the mattered now; all that mattered…

Now, he was kneeling before the Decepticon leader, his body battered and bleeding energon, the glowing fluid leaking down the various punctures in his body. Megatron was in similar straits, his form heaving as he tried to stabilize his systems. Both had their hands on each other's necks, the spot containing a variety of vital wiring and circuitry that were vulnerable to "strangling". Spike gave an extra hard squeeze, now forcing Megatron to HIS knees. Spike almost grinned in demonic delight as he felt the metal start to buckle under his grasp. His vision was now overloaded with warning signs, graphs and charts and schematics and other things he didn't care about. His vision was growing fuzzy, and he was getting lightheaded…. But those things didn't matter.

He had Megatron in his grip. Megatron was going to die. Megatron HAD to die. That was all that mattered, according to the rage fueled mind of one Spike Witwicky.

"You murdered me, Megatron," Spike murmured in a growling voice while the aforementioned Decepticon one upped him in the contest to strangle his opponent. This did not change the cold menace in Spike's voice. "Time I returned the favor!"

There was a noise now, not his noise, but a loud beeeeep noise. "Warning" flashed across his vision, "Danger Critical" and other such things. His vision was growing fuzzier and fuzzier, but he was sure he could do it. He'd win the war for his friends, he would kil-

Megatron gave an intense squeeze. First Spike heard the sound of something cracking, then his vision blacked out…

And then his world became nothingness.


	11. Aftershock

**Chrysalis**

**Author's Note: **One bit here I must give credit to my resident beta reader and muse, Epona Harper. As well as that, The Crow is copyrighted to James O'Barr. Read on, and you'll see what I mean...

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Aftershock**

Ratchet's dentals were clenched so tight they may have well fused together, and, were he organic, sweat would have been coating his frame, alongside an equally frantic Perceptor and Wheeljack. Before their optics laid the supine body of Spike, battered and torn and wounded beyond belief. Just looking at it would have made a lesser 'Bot wince just thinking about the physical agony Spike must have gone through. Ratchet privately cursed the kid for his recklessness and for whatever drove him to attack Megatron head-on like that. What had he been hoping to accomplish?! Megatron was a veteran of a millennia long war, a war that had been going on since before Spike's birth species had even evolved! Not to mention the fact Megatron had been a gladiator of infamous skill and brutality even before he rose to power among the Decepticons… and all the same, Spike had charged into the fray and engaged Megatron in hand-to-hand combat. Ratchet did not listen to reports of how close Spike had come to ending Megatron once and for all… none of that mattered to the CMO. All that mattered was this fact, this one grisly fact about Spike.

He was dying.

Like so many others that come before him, Spike's life now lay in the hands of Ratchet. And all the while as Ratchet's hands blurred in his efforts to connect part A to part B, to remove ding C from part D, Ratchet was considering why it was so important for Spike to live. Not that any life under his hands was unimportant, but Spike's death would have had a more personal impact then the other 'Bots could have imagined. Unlike the rest of the Autobots here, Spike knew his creator. He possessed a closeness with his father wholly unknown to Transformer-kind. True some relationships between creator and creation were closer then others, but it was not the same as what was shared between the human and former human. Sparkplug had taken time and effort to raise his son… he'd been hoping to see his child through life, to be there when Spike would go forth and make his way in life. Megatron's spite almost destroyed that, but the two had been able to preserve their love for each other, irregardless of the form Spike wore.

Ratchet swore to himself that he would not see that destroyed. He would not lose this one… he would not see a family evaporated. This he promised himself.

_Besides, _Ratchet thought to himself with a bit of grim wryness, _if he dies now I can't kill him later. _

* * *

Optimus Prime sat despondently in his office, his mind a jumble with conflicting thoughts and emotions as Ratchet worked on Spike in the medbay. The Autobot leader could practically hear the mental cursing and condemnations that were surely being concocted in the surly CMO's mind as he and his team repaired the extensive - nigh horrific - damage that had been inflicted upon Spike's body. From what the diagnostics had told them, Spike should have been crippled in agony given the amount of damage he sustained, but he had kept on until forced off-line. Optimus privately concluded that Spike was simply too enraged to acknowledge the damage or the pain… from what he had been able to gather from his troops, Spike had been in a state of being that would have sent even Grimlock into a stunned silence. Not that the Autobot leader could blame Spike, given the number of human dead that had accrued in that particular attack. But still…

He recalled quite accurately how it had started, the battle…

_He had given the battle cry and scanned the field for any signs of Megatron… but also kept a wary optic out for Spike. Unfortunately though, he found himself distracted by none-other then Soundwave… arguably the true second in command of the Decepticons. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, Soundwave decided to hit him with the full force of the psychotic midget brigade; AKA "The Cassettes". So, while Prime had been busy fending off some of his least favorite individuals in the world, Spike had been able to take down Ramjet… Prime had just about battered and beaten the swarm of cassettes away when he heard the heard that… that horrific noise; and the equally horrific scream coming from Skywarp. Prime had actually gaped in horror, seeing Spike standing over Skywarp's de-winged form from behind Soundwave. And when he saw Megatron's cannon blast into Spike's chest, he'd made a beeline for the youth… only to find Soundwave himself had finally decided to enter the fray, and duly blocked Prime's path as Megatron continued to advance. With all the foul tenacity and strength of a demon, he fought back against Prime, keeping him away from Spike. Even when Spike and Megatron tore into each other, Soundwave was able to keep Prime back. _

_But when Prime's sensitive audios somehow registered the sickening crunch, even through the din of combat… that's when he was able to get past Soundwave. He wasn't sure how desperation could fuel his sudden surge of strength, enough so that he could throw Soundwave away… and quite frankly he did not care. He could see Megatron's violent, triumphant grin. In a moment of rage, Prime kicked that smug ashen face as he charged, sending the tyrant sailing away. But, it was too late… it was apparent to Prime even as he knelt down to lift up Spike's limp, barely functioning body. The damage done, Megatron managed a weak, rasping "Decepticons, retreat!", sending his forces away from the warzone, a few of them carrying away those who had been too damaged to move of their own volition; Thundercracker carrying Skywarp, and Soundwave carrying Megatron. The battle was over… and it would seem the Decepticons had won. _

Things were a bit of a blur after that… but, superficially, it was like all the other times. He called for them to head back to base, ordered several Autobots to aid in the reconstruction of the area, same old same old. And now he was sitting here, in his office, trying to think… trying to think where things had gone wrong exactly. For as long as he lived, Optimus Prime would damn himself for possessing more ability in the art of hindsight then that of foresight. True, he was a mech who could usually foresee the outcome of events, possessing a mind for tactics and logistics matched by few… but, in truth, when all was said and done and he had time to look back… he saw the errors he'd made. So many of them and all of them laughing and taunting him for not being able to see them sooner. Not for the first time in his life Optimus damned himself… a friend was now laid up in the medical bay, his life force ebbing away even as Ratchet struggled to keep him alive. Spike was once again paying the price of Optimus' stupidity. The first time around it cost him his body, and the second time around could very well cost his life.

That in mind, the Autobot leader buried his hands in his face and gave a hefty sigh. As was per usual for him, he did not allow himself to mope or obsess over this. Right now his mind started in on another subject.

Spike's actions during the fight, and the terrifying implications that came with them…

* * *

There was a stir among the ranks, no doubt about it.

The Autobots who'd been required to remain at base had been waiting anxiously for the assault group to return, congregating in the main hall. There was always some level of trepidation when it came to sending out new recruits for their first battle… let alone a new recruit who had previously been human, and whose sanity some still questioned. So, needless to say, when the gory details of Spike's activities finally came to light, it gave them all much to talk about instead of focusing on the rather depressing fact that Spike could be dying. General consensus among the Autobots was one of intense shock and, in some cases, outright denial of what they'd been told by those who'd been present at the battle. It all sounded so… unreal. Spike tearing into the Decepticons and even MAIMING one of them? Even going up against Megatron and fighting him to a standstill? It couldn't be… it just couldn't.

At least, that's what a certain jeep had been thinking.

"You…you aren't serious are you?" a horrified Hound asked an uncharacteristically serious-looking Jazz while Bluestreak listened in with wide optics.

The saboteur, his arms crossed over his chest and his face stern nodded to the jeep. "I ain't kiddin' ya Hound, Spike just flipped out on the battlefield. Tore Skywarp's wings clean off and nearly kacked Megatron himself! You shoulda seen it. It was like he was possessed! I was close to the fight, woulda helped him if Dirge hadn't been holdin' me back. I was so close I even overheard him say somethin' REAL spooky…"

Hound was almost afraid to ask. "Spooky? How do you mean 'spooky'?"

"I mean spooky as in saying something around the lines of Megatron murdering him and that he was returnin' the favor to ol' chrome-dome."

Hound looked… flabbergasted, to say the least. "He said that? Honest and truly, he said that Megatron _murdered _him? But… he's alive. How could he have been murdered if he's alive?"

Jazz shook his head and sighed. "He sure sounded like he didn't think of himself as really being alive. Maybe he honestly thinks he's already dead. I mean, you saw how he was acting when we first brought him back, right? Maybe this change has affected him more then any of us ever really thought about…" at this moment of self-reflection Jazz actually frowned a little, only now realizing that maybe Spike really _didn't_ like being a Transformer. At all. Despite being an empathic mech, Jazz, like most of the Autobots had never really considered that perhaps this wasn't as much as a step up as they would have figured. And why would they? Spike was a tiny, frail organic creature with a short life-span. Now he was one of them; huge and powerful, nigh unstoppable. Why could he possibly consider that a bad thing?

Before this concept could be further explored in the mind of the mech, Bluestreak's voice suddenly rang out. From his tone, some idea was panicking the gunner something awful. "Primus! He's a Crow!"

Hound turned his head to stare at Bluestreak, looking at him as though he had lost his mind. "What the slag are you talking about, Blue?"

"Oh. Well, there's this comic I read about this guy who came back from the dead because he and his girlfriend were killed by a gang and he couldn't rest or something, and they couldn't stop him, 'cause, you know, how do you kill something that's already dead? Bang-bang-bang and he kept on going and going, though I guess it's not quite the same since Spike doesn't have a bird with him and he didn't have a girlfriend anyway so she couldn't have gotten killed and all. But I think we're okay as long as he doesn't start quoting the Bible or poetry in the middle of a fight."

Both Hound AND Jazz stared at Bluestreak. An awkward silence reigned for a seemingly eternal ten seconds before Hound found it in him to speak again. "Bluestreak… that's a comic book. This is real life."

"I'm just saying. I'm allowed to have a theory aren't I? I mean maybe he is and maybe he ain't but I'm just sayin-"

"We get the point, Blue," Jazz raised a hand and smiled softly, "And funky as all that sounds, I somehow don't think that Spike's situation is QUITE that extreme." The conversation would have continued on, if not for the fact that a single strung-out voice was ringing out boldly over the other concerned and quietly horrified voices in the Ark.

"I KNEW IT! I just KNEW IT!!!" Red Alert shrieked out after having gotten his own account of what had happened. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were standing nearby, the latter glaring at the former who was grinning sheepishly, their expressions clearly stating "smooth move genius" and "oops" in that order. Apparently they hadn't meant for Red Alert to be an audience member for their own, more theatrical account of what had happened…

"I told you, didn't I? I told all of you!! But did you listen? Noooo! I warned you he was a potential danger to us!" Red Alert ranted, now in full paranoid swing while behind him Sunstreaker continued to glare at Sideswipe, who, for one of the few times in recent memory, looked like he just wanted to vanish from sight. "I knew he was unstable… I knew it! I even warned Prime about it!"

Jazz made his way over to the exceedingly agitated security officer, hoping to maybe calm him down before things got out of hand. "Now hold up there Red," Jazz interjected in a defensive tone, "I was there, I saw what happened. I'll admit it wasn't exactly all that inspirin' to behold…"

"Is THAT what you call it? He _ripped _the wings off a seeker!" At this proclamation a chuckled could be heard from Sideswipe, along with a murmur of something sounding like "That was cool…"

"Can I get a word in, at least?" Jazz asked in annoyance. Suitably abashed by the comment and realizing he was entering his dreaded and often-mocked "rant mode", Red Alert kept quiet. "Thank you," Jazz nodded, "Look, man, I was there when it happened, alright? And yeah, it was freaky, REALLY freaky… but the fact is, Spike didn't attack _us. _He took out his pent up hostilities on the 'Cons instead. Ya dig?"

Red Alert only frowned, "That does not prove much, Jazz, and you know it," he stated calmly, while again Jazz frowned. "The fact is that he not only lost his cool on the battlefield and endangered his life, he also dispatched an enemy with unbelievable cruelty. For now those aggressions are directed towards the Decepticons, but I am not convinced that it will last. You SAW how he acted in the early days, and I for one know that, despite how calm he appears most of the time… he's like a timebomb. No matter how delayed the reaction, he's eventually going to explode. And take us with him, unless something is done beforehand…"

The surrounding Autobots began to murmur among themselves again, many in disagreement or even a little disgust at Red Alert's words… but also a few in agreement of his reasoning. A completely incredulous Ironhide stepped forward, his jaw agape at the security director. "Red… ya can't be tellin' me yer serious. This is SPIKE we're talkin' about!"

Red Alert's expression never wavered. "I'm well aware of that, Ironhide. But quite frankly, things have changed with him… and not just in body. HE'S changed… and I doubt that it's for the better. Now if you'll excuse me…" He headed for the hallway, his stance confident and his expression grim. "…I need to speak with Prime."

The Autobots watched in silence as he left the room, before resuming their chatting. So caught up were they in their discussions that they never noticed a little detail concerning one of their number - something far more disturbing then Red Alert's agitation and severe judgement of their friend.

Grimlock.

The Dinobot warrior - throughout every thing that had been said and done, from the return of the defense party to Red Alert leaving the room - had remained in the back, arms crossed and strangely silent… as he always seemed to be on the subject of Spike. While the Autobots talked among themselves, Grimlock silently headed out, his mind focusing on one single subject.

Spike.

* * *

And while the Autobots spoke and gossiped and argued, in the hallway just outside the medbay two figures sat…

Bumblebee looked down nervously at Sparkplug, before casting yet another glance at the closed doors of the bay. When Prime and the others returned, Bumblebee had been the first to greet them, desperately wanting to know how the battle had gone and how Spike was. When he saw Prime approaching with the massive and horrifically damaged bulk of his friend in his arms… his fuel pump had nearly frozen. And Sparkplug… his reaction was worse if that were possible. He looked shocked for a moment, horrified beyond measure… then it appeared as though a bit of him had died inside. He barely reacted to any words of assurance or apologies… just a kind of numbness, even as he followed Bumblebee and sat next to him. For all the seemingly infinite number of minutes the two had been sitting and waiting, Sparkplug had been in stark contrast to the Bug by being completely still, just staring at the door, while Bumblebee fidgeted something fierce. Throughout all this, there had been an uncomfortable silence between the two… a silence broken only now by the Bug. His head once again looked down at the human, optics brimming with sympathy.

"He…he'll be fine, Sparkplug. Ratchet's working his circuitry off, and I've seen him perform miracles… Spike'll be fine, don't-"

"SHUT UP!" Sparkplug's head turned almost violently to meet Bumblebee's gaze, his expression so raw with rage that the Autobot, despite having the advantage of size actually recoiled in fright. He'd never seen Sparkplug THIS angry… ever.

The tirade had begun, and, like a tidal wave, there was no stopping it once it started.

"This… this is YOUR fault!" he pointed an accusing finger at Bumblebee, who was currently too numbed by fright and shock at Sparkplug's uncharacteristic outburst to protest this desperate accusation, "The fault of all of you! If you hadn't shown up, I'd still be at the rig alongside Spike, and he wouldn't be DYING! You stinkin' overgrown toaster! It's all your fault…" his expression however had gone steadily from white hot rage to softer, infinitely sadder expression, "All…my fault…" he finally murmured, averting his gaze from Bumblebee… and then burying his face into his hands and openly weeping.

Bumblebee, cautiously eyeing the human resumed his original posture, and tentatively put a large comforting hand on Sparkplug's shoulder. In that moment of self-realization, all of Sparkplug's hateful words had become insignificant to the Volkswagen. "Sparkplug…it is isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is," came Sparkplug's muffled sob, "I'm… I'm his father. God dammnit, I'm his father and I let him go out there… I let my son go into a freaking _warzone! _A dozen times over I did this… what kind of father am I, Bumblebee? What kind of father…?" His voice broke and he once again resumed his chocked sobs.

Bumblebee however would not be swayed. "Sparkplug, for Primus' sake, get a grip!" he spoke with a determination wrought from someone who didn't want to see a friend lose his nerve, "You're not a bad father, and it's not your fault your son is in there! I should have gone too, to look out for him, but I didn't! And you know what? I bet you right now Prime is blasting himself for what happened, 'cause he thinks it's HIS fault Spike's laid up right now. You know why? Because he's our leader, and he's responsible for his troops! What happened was out of your hands, Sparkplug…" Bumblebee sighed sadly, "You got that Sparkplug? Out. Of. Your. Hands."

Sparkplug finally looked up at Bumblebee, the expression on his tear-stained face was… pitiful. "He's all I got left, Bumblebee… how can I NOT feel responsible?" The tears stopped flowing, and Sparkplug had finally calmed down completely. "I made a promise… when he was born to take care of him and protect him. And I've failed in the worst way imaginable. Please tell me how I could not feel responsible?"

Bumblebee sighed, and looked at the ground. "I don't know, Sparkplug. What I do know, is that Spike wouldn't want you like this…" at that, Sparkplug looked at the ground as well.

A moment of silence passed.

"He IS gonna make it, Sparkplug," Bumblebee stated, not taking his optics off the patch of ground, "I know it. Don't lose hope."

Now it was Sparkplug's turn to sigh. "I pray to whichever god will listen that you're right, 'Bee. I pray that you are right."

* * *

In his room, far away from the hubbub in the main hall or from the personal woes of the duo outside the medical bay, Smokescreen was hard at work.

All around him were datapads, their combined luminescence lighting up his quarters rather nicely in lieu of an actual lamp. It was not like the shady (ironically enough) Autobot to spend his time reading in the dark, but he had been in a hurry. Too much of a hurry to bother activating the lights. When the news of what happened had reached his audios, he'd immediately headed towards the Ark's datafile collection. Since their awakening on Earth, the Autobots had many transcripts of human printed works saved on datapad, on virtually every subject they could get their metallic mitts on. Anyone who may have walked in on Smokescreen and gotten a gander at the content of these datapads would have been shocked at their content.

They were ALL on human psychology.

Anything and everything on the inner workings of the human mind and psyche, all conceivable venues to analyze humanity was strewn before the Autobot's greatest schemer. Now, anyone who knew Smokescreen would have been more then a little perplexed to see him with these kinds of datapads, as he'd never displayed an interest in human psychiatric study AT ALL (human economics, on the other hand…). So then, why would he just now be studying such things?

It was because he had failed.

More so than Prime or Sparkplug felt it, Smokescreen had a deep and resonating feeling of complete and utter failure. His job was to prevent things like Spike's going off the deep end from happening... from preventing ANY of the Autobots from allowing their personal problems and hang-ups from getting so bad that drastic action had to be taken. With the Autobots, he had not failed in this endeavor; he long prided himself on being able to read the emotions of mechs with the utmost skill, to the extent where he could have passed himself off as a telepath if he wanted to. He knew the workings of the mech mind just that well. But in the case of Spike… he'd made a gross error in judgment. He had tried to treat his mind like that of another Autobot when he'd tried to pick up on the clues and body language Spike would inadvertently give off.

Or, rather, the Cybertronnian equivalent of body language. Transformers, with their blocky metal bodies had little room for anything humans could identify as body language. Excluding their facial expressions, Transformers were simply not very physically expressive. However, in lieu of that, they had something more subtle. All Transformers had a kind of personal energy about them, an aura if you will. These auras were beyond the sights of most creatures, Transformers included. The average Transformer could vaguely feel and sense at any fluctuations in the fields; could just barely perceive them and the emotional changes that went with them. The reacted to them much the same way that humans reacted to each other's posture without actually realizing what they were doing. Smokescreen, on the other hand, could see them quite clearly, and as such could read 'Bots and 'Cons alike with all the skill and effort it would take him to read a book. The problem was however, that this aura of emotion… did not exist with Spike. Or rather it did exist, but the messages it sent were… conflicted.

Smokescreen could not comprehend why at the time, but the Spike's aura was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It bothered him, but he felt certain he could conquer; that he could find a rhyme and reason to its alien, roiling mass. Smokescreen had almost gaped openly when he laid optics on it; chaotic and erratic, yet at the same time alluring and mysterious… He'd never come across anything like it in his life, not even in lunatics. But he was confident that ultimately he could figure it out. It was merely a puzzle, a very complicated and seemingly nonsensical puzzle. Surely he could solve it.

Smokescreen frowned as he read the screen, damning himself for his arrogance. He had "read" it all right – read it wrongly. His assessment of Spike's mental health had been off… WAY off. He'd been able to see which 'Bots had no problems whatsoever; he knew who in the Ark had issues with the human-turned-Autobot. And then there was the particularly disturbing case of Grimlock and his unbelievably cool, analytical aura… so totally unlike him in every way. But, with Spike… he'd been dead wrong. He'd been treating Spike's mind and psyche in the same manner that he would have treated an Autobot's. He should have realized the moment he saw him that he couldn't really analyze him; Spike's core being was NOT Autobot. He was not sparked from Vector Sigma, nor was he the result of a spark-melding. He had been born to humans and, for lack of a better term, was converted into a Cybertronnian. But he was not an Autobot, or a Decepticon, or any kind of Cybertronnian… he lacked the core drive of either of those builds.

Autobots and Decepticons were separate builds of the same species, and each one at spark had a primary drive that they either embraced or rejected at varying degrees. At the core of Autobots was the drive to build, create and maintain. This was sharply contrasted by their Decepticon counterparts, who were driven by the need for combat, glory, conquest. This division, these factors that governed the primal essence of the factions, was the root of almost all the ultimate deciding factors in their membership. Very few could completely divorce themselves from their heritage; it was an absolute truth. A 'Bot is a 'Bot, and a 'Con is a 'Con.

All throughout the week when Spike was being trained and tutored in the uses of his body, Smokescreen had been covertly observing him, mentally jotting down the traits he'd displayed during that time. Being unable to get a real grip on the lad's aura, he instead went with the secondary indicators; facial expressions and general disposition. He'd taken them to mean that Spike was essentially fine, despite the great difficulties Smokescreen still had in reading him. He had been SO sure that Spike was doing okay, enough so that when Prime had privately commed him on the subject, he'd said that Spike was ready for combat. From what he 'saw'… the bad days were essentially over.

He'd given Prime the "doctor's seal of approval" in case anything came up, convinced that Spike's aggression was his adapting to the Autobot norms, a desire to defend that which had been built by his friends and people.

How he rued that decision…

So now he sat and read over tome after tome of human psychology. Spike was not driven by anything Cybertronnian, this much Smokescreen now realized. Now he was furiously working at what he now knew should have been his first task from the moment Spike was brought back to the Ark – at essence, finding out what made humans tick. What was _their _primal purpose- their unknowable and untold meaning of life? Smokescreeen knew, just KNEW, that if he could find this out, then he could at least understand Spike. And hopefully, prevent something like this from happening again.

Emboldened by this, Smokescreen continued to pour over the texts. Perhaps the works of this "Freud" fellow would yield the wanted truths…

* * *

Even the Autobot's hated foes were reeling from the attack, down in the murky depths of their ocean base…

Soundwave, ever silent, watched as the Constructicons Hook, Scrapper, and Scavenger worked on the battered, near-dead body of Megatron. Soundwave had specifically chosen these three due to their combined competence and loyalty. Competence at least in the case of Scrapper and Hook, whereas he knew Scavenger would be so desperate to prove himself that he would not risk making a mistake. All Constructicons possessed a measure of their other gestalt-brothers' skills, but, in the case of surgery and medicine (Hook's specialty) a few of them showed more competence than others; case in point, the trio before him. Soundwave, at times like this, had to envy the Autobots. Pathetic as they were, they at least had a decently-trained medical officer, and one that was actually duty-bound to boot. He doubted Optimus Prime had to waste time bribing or threatening his valued subordinate in order to ensure the job was done right. But, for now, Soundwave would not grouse. Megatron had the attentions of the Nemesis II's finest, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Soundwave was privately quite thankful that Skywarp had gotten his wings plucked in the fight. This was not due to some underlying sadistic satisfaction at seeing the puerile Seeker get his (okay, perhaps it was a _little _bit of that), but rather for the simple fact that it was something to distract Starscream from his usual pattern of pitiful attempted usurpations of Megatron's position. Skywarp, whether or not Starscream wanted to admit it, was one of the few friends the Air Commander actually had, alongside Thundercracker. It was at the blue seeker's prompt that Starscream stood vigil alongside him as they both awaited Skywarp to be fixed. What had happened to him, from the viewpoint of a flyer, was a horrific crime against his person… a violation the most deplorable sort. Thundercracker and Starscream both knew that Skywarp would need support to heal the intense psychological wounds this incident was sure to have inflicted upon his delicate psyche. And so, it was only for this that Starscream belayed his usual activities.

Recalling the day's events caused Soundwave a considerable amount of disconcertion. That brat…that freak should not have been able to lay Megatron low in such a fashion. And yet, Spike had done almost done what Optimus Prime himself had been incapable of doing these many millennia of war. He almost KILLED the ancient warlord, Soundwave's leader. A hulking, mentally-unstable mech that had formerly been a teenaged flesh creature… it was insane! It was blasphemous! And yet, it had happened… and Soundwave recalled with a shudder the raw deluge of emotions that had assaulted his mind when Spike unleashed his fury upon Megatron. Even Soundwave, a telepath who'd long been able to shield out the chaos of emotion during battles, had almost been staggered by the intense hatred Spike had felt towards Megatron. Soundwave was no stranger to hatred, but in all his vorns of existence he had never felt it in a way that was so… raw, so primal. It was unlike any kind of anger he'd felt from a Transformer. Perhaps… was it possible that Spike's _humanity _was the source of this hatred? This sheer antipathy? Sunstreaker and the Dinobots combined didn't give off an emotional output like this…

Whatever the truth, the fact was that Spike was quickly becoming a dangerous and unforeseen variable; an X-factor, one with the potential to bring catastrophic ruin to the Decepticons… so long as he continued to let his hatred rule him like that. Hopefully, Prime, being the soft-sparked fool that he was, would not use this to his full advantage. It was a lucky break that the Dinobots were only called out for certain occasions, rather than as regular troopers. Hopefully, Spike's temper-tantrum would have diminished him in the optics of Prime and the other Autobots. Such a thought was comforting, knowing that even as Spike was being healed, preparations were likely being made to have him punished for his actions… when so many of their problems could have been ended then and there had he been able to hold out just a few seconds longer.

Idly, as he gazed upon his unconscious leader, he recalled the things Starscream had said about Spike. It would seem the seeker would be vindicated, as everything he'd said had come true, with crushing results…

Karma was unfair like that.

* * *

_Again he was within the darkness. _

_Only this time, he found himself surrounded by… wait, he knew he'd seen these before. They were powerful, pulsating things… Sparks! That's right, he remembered reading up on these... his optics widened. These were sparks that were surrounding him. He was surrounded by Cybertronnian souls! He looked around in awe… a kind of solemn quiver shook his frame as the realization dawned upon him. He could vaguely recall the fight… hatred, rage… wanting someone dead. The sparks began to twirl around him, dancing and twirling in a whirlwind of life. Tentatively, Spike reached out to touch one…_

"_What are you?" Asked an effervescent voice - a thousand voices in one. Spike started and gazed around frantically, his hand pulling away from the spark as he tried to locate the source of the voice, and finding only the swarm surrounding him. "What are you?" The voice asked again. Seeing as how he had no choice, Spike tried to answer. _

"_I… I'm an Autobot…" he replied, though truthfully he did not really think of himself as such._

"_You lie. You are not an Autobot." The serene voice countered. The sparks were now starting to converge to a single point, forming into a kind of clump, a singular confluence, a vaguely circular mass of light. The little electrical, almost molecule-like balls of life energy continued throb and pulsate around the newly-formed coherent entity. _

_Spike sighed. "Yeah… I know that. I'm not an Autobot… I have the body of one, but…"_

"_You are not a child of Primus." The voice stated, now obviously originating from the sparkmass. "You were not created from metal and energon, but grown from flesh and blood. You wear the form of one of his children, but your essence, you very spiritual drive is of completely different stock. You do not have a spark."_

_Spike raised an annoyed brow, "Oh dear God not this again… look, whatever you are, Prime made it pretty clear that I have a spark, so don't try to tell me-"_

"_There is no need for hostility," the voice replied, cutting of Spike's rant before it could begin, "You misinterpreted what is stated. Your life energy did not begin in the form of a spark, but in that of a soul. A human soul. What the Matrix Bearer said was an inaccuracy on his part. Look down." _

_Spike regarded the thing with a hint of incredulity. "Okaaay…" he drew out the "kay", feeling that this was a tad odd… even for this entire situation. He looked down, and gasped at what he saw hovering in front of his chest. It was a globe of white light, incandescent and… soft, beautiful. He looked at it, then at the blob. "What… what is this?"_

"_You know what it is, William Whitwicky," the swarm shook a little, almost as though nodding._

_Comprehension dawned upon Spike, and he looked down in awe. "This is my soul… isn't it?" _

"_It is indeed your immortal aspect… though why you are here, within the embrace of the Allspark, is a conundrum." Spike looked up in confusion, his expression asking for an explanation. "We are the Oracle… we are what brings released sparks back into the fold of the Allspark, the source of all Cybertronnian life. It is we that enable Vector Sigma to give life to the shells of Primus's children. And yet, here you are… answering to us, when another should be here…"_

_Spike had a very good idea of who this "other" was, and it sent shivers down his frame. "I… I'm dead aren't I? This is like when I was brought offline… only worse. I'm really dead, aren't I?" Spike felt himself start to panic, but then a chuckle came from the oracle. _

"_No. You are in between right now, on the verge of crossing the line over into the afterlife… though we know, you will not die." Spike sighed in relief at this, but again his brow raised._

"_Then why…?"_

"_Why come to you? We were simply… curious. Since the beginning, we have ushered in the new and old sparks of Transformerkind, and in all our existence we have never seen something like you; an organic soul inhabiting a child of Primus."_

"_Ooooh," Spike nodded slightly, and gazed down upon his soul, before looking back up at the Oracle, "will I remember this? Any of this?" _

"_Unfortunately, no…" A new voice. This one soft and feminine in sharp contrast to the total androgeny of the Oracle. A glow, white and pure entered the scene, and Spike almost squinted in reflex as he made out a figure, a… human figure, female in form and bathed in lights. She was beautiful, in her twenties with vibrant brown hair and eyes. She neared him, and suddenly Spike felt a… warmth. A warmth he hadn't felt since…_

_Since…_

"_Mom…?" Spike said, his expression one of… complete and utter awe as his optics widened. Veronica Whitwicky smile lovingly at the Autobot before her._

"_Oh William… my sweet, beautiful boy," she floated close to him, mysteriously the same size as him as her hand caressed his metallic cheek, "I cannot tell you how long I have wanted to meet you."_

_Spike's hand met hers, he felt himself overwhelmed with emotion. "Oh mom…!" he said in a chocked voice as he flung himself to her, hugging her to him and making sobbing noises. He felt… words could not describe how he felt. He'd long wondered what his mother was like, what she thought of him. He had so many questions, but right now he could not voice them. Instead he held her tight, and she returned the hug with a smile. _

"_Oh there William, there there," she cooed, patting his back, "It's all right… I'm here. I've always been here…"_

"_I-I'm s-sorry, ma," Spike blubbered. "It's just… just I never knew you! And- and I always wanted to-"_

"_I know, son. I know," Veronica said warmly, now rocking him back and forth as she cradled him. "I too wanted to know you personally, Spike… to see firsthand the kind of man Sparky would raise you to be. I always saw you, my son… but I never got a chance to say how much I love you."_

_Spike pulled back, his face still a torrent of emotion. "E-even if I'm not human anymore?" He could not help but suddenly feel self-conscious about his current state of being again. _

_Veronica chuckled, "Spike, you're still human despite the form. Haven't you figured that out yet, silly?" she tapped him on the head with a knuckle, grinning widely. Spike had the good sense to look sheepish._

"_Well, it's kind of difficult to think like that when I got a big metal body like this… waitasec…" he realized something and looked down, "Why am I still in this body? Shouldn't I be in my original body?"_

_Veronica shook her head, "You're not dead yet Spike, and you'll wear this body until you finally shed your mortal coil. But more on that later," she smiled at him again, "I just wanted to tell you before you went back, that I'm proud of you and your father. And of the friends you've made… they've done so much for this world, and for you."_

_Spike looked ruefully down at the void at his feet, "Even though I've been a bit of loony…"_

_Veronica gently forced him to face her, "Now don't you say things like that Spike. You never intentionally did anything to your friends, and you shouldn't let yourself sink into self-pity over it."_

_Spike sighed, and smiled at her. "Heh, I know you're right, I just can't help myself… but thanks."_

_Veronica beamed brightly,, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't mention it, Spike. And as much as I want this to last…"_

"_It is time," said the Oracle. Spike began to get agitated again._

"_What? Waitaminute! It can't end now, not when I'm just getting to know you! Mom, please…!" Veronica only shook her head and floated away, waving at him sadly. _

"_Not yet, Spike. You still have so much to do in life. Now, it is time for you," The next two words were spoken both by her, and the Oracle._

"_Wake up." _

_The world began to brighten, even as Spike made one last desperate grab for his mother… and then his memories began to fade away as the light consumed him._

* * *

Ratchet let out an audible sigh of relief as he closed Spike up, his vital signs returning to normal. Wheeljack and Perceptor congratulated each other and set to work putting the equipment back into place, while Ratchet kept a steady optic on Spike's vitals… just in case.

Spike's optics began to brighten, and he let out a faint groan. "M-mother…?" he murmured. Perceptor overheard this and turned to face Spike, his brow raised. But, deciding not to pry the scientist simply shrugged, and resumed cleaning up the bay.

Ratchet, despite himself, chuckled lightly. "Not quite kid…"

Spike took one look at Ratchet, and suddenly felt… tired. Very, very tired. Not letting out another word, he slipped into recharge as his repairs took hold. Ratchet patted his shoulder lightly before heading out. Spike was fixed, and all he needed was some rest.

He headed out to give the good news… especially to the two very concerned individuals who'd been hovering outside his medical bay ever since Spike had entered it.


	12. Council

Note from the Author: Okay then, this took way longer then it should have, for which I apologize. I have not abandoned the fic however, so never fear of that happening. Shout out to my Evil Muse Epona Harper, for her invaluable contributions to making this fic better (several of the choppier bits have been rewritten by her, so give her respect!) and for her patiance with me despite my slackerness. Alright, enough about that; on with the fic!

**

* * *

Chrysalis**

**Chapter Twelve: Council **

"Everyone, please be seated."

At the command issued by the stern voice of Optimus, all the mechs present in the private conference room - the entire command staff of Ark - did as their leader asked almost simultaneously. When Prime himself sat, he put his hands in front of him, interlocking his fingers and gazing out at the other 'bots in a severe fashion. Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, Red Alert, Jazz, and Smokescreen all were seated before him, taking up either side of the conference table. All of them held similarly serious expressions upon their faces, well aware of what was to be discussed in this particular meeting, no matter how much it killed them inside; the majority of them, at least. For a moment Prime said nothing, mentally preparing himself for what was sure to be a trying meeting ahead.

"Fellow Autobots, as you are all well aware by this point, the mental stability of one of our own has been called into question. This, in turn, brings into question his competence as a warrior and the potential threat he may pose to his comrades. We are gathered here this day to discuss on how to deal with Spike."

"This ain't right," a mellow yet miffed voice rang out. The suddenness of the declaration almost started the Autobot leader, but, as per usual, the levelheaded rig was able to hide any sign that he may have been startled. He looked over to the source of the comment and sighed heavily.

"Jazz…"

"Well it's true! It just don't strike me as bein particularly proper of us to be punishin' Spike for nearly doing what we all WISH we could have done. So what if he freaked out? He almost solved a heckuva lot of problems for us."

"No one disputes that particular fact, Jazz," Prowl interjected gently to his friend. "But that does not change the fact that we were assured that Spike's problems were over and done with for the most part. Unfortunately, the exact opposite was proven to be true."

Jazz simply gave an uncharacteristically gruff 'harrumph' and leaned an elbow on the table and rested his head on his outstretched hand. His opinion of this whole affair was pretty much a forgone conclusion.

"Precisely, Prowl," Optimus nodded in the tactician's direction. "For the purposes of this meeting and evaluation, Smokescreen and Red Alert will be presenting evidence for and against Spike's continued involvement in our conflict with the Decepticons. Red Alert." He turned his head to face his security director and gave a nod. "The floor is yours."

"Oh this oughtta be rich…" Ironhide grumbled under his breath while Ratchet let out a groan and rubbed his face tiredly. Everyone in this room was well aware of Red Alert's ravings concerning Spike's transformation and subsequent mental instability. But Prime noted that, despite his vindication, Red Alert had not displayed any kind of glee or joy at having been right; ultimately, all he said and did was in the name of the Autobots' continued protection. However, the accusations and suspicions held by the infamously paranoid security director still grated on the nerves of some of the Autobots.

Red Alert pointedly ignored the comments and gracefully stood up, making his way to the head of the table by Prime's side. Nodding once to his leader, he turned to face the assembled Autobots. "As you are all aware, since the time of his accident Spike's mental stability has been questionable at times, with reports of emotional breakdowns and barely suppressed rage being frequent in the early days of his return and subsequent reformatting-"

"Red Alert," Prowl interjected, "I do not mean to interrupt you, but we are all well aware of Spike's problems in the early days. I fail to see how these particular details are relevant to this hearing." Jazz smirked at his longtime friend's words, while Red Alert's metallic brow furrowed in annoyance.

"I am simply making the point that we all KNEW about Spike's problems and that we treated them in a dangerously lax manner." Red Alert paused for a moment, almost daring anyone else to dispute this fact.

When none took up the challenge, Red Alert continued on.

"Before I continue, you must understand that I am doing this with our best interests at spark. I would not bring any of this up unless I was sure of how it could affect us." He looked around to make sure that everyone was listening. "But the fact remains that, despite assurances we all received, it is plainly obvious that Spike's sanity is still questionable. Reports from the recent battle show that he has within him a tremendous capacity for rage. This alone does not warrant this hearing, but his actions towards Skywarp… were of a sadistic quality that I dare not comprehend. You are all well aware of what he did. There is no denying it; he wanted to make Skywarp _hurt_."

"And how does that make him any different from Sunstreaker?" Jazz tried to challenge, but it was obvious in his tone that the stylish saboteur understood where Red Alert was coming from and it bothered him greatly. A pregnant silence followed his words as the command staff awkwardly shared uncomfortable glances with each other - save for Smokescreen who had remained calm and almost emotionless throughout the proceedings.

"It is very different, Jazz," Red Alert said severely. "For all of Sunstreaker's problems we at least are able to predict how he'll act; Spike on the other hand is a total and complete wildcard! We could assume him to be fine, when in truth it would only be a matter of time before he once again entered some form of catastrophic rage! And this time, what if it's not directed at a Decepticon? What if one of our own should end up paying the price because we underestimated just how dangerous that fury is? I assure you, I do not find making these recommendations pleasant in the least, but I am only thinking about our safety! I advise Spike be put under permanent probation; he may never again enter combat."

"Oh come ON!" Jazz near bellowed, getting to his feet, "If you're so afraid of him losing it in the field, then what'll stop him from losing his mind going stir-crazy from being stuck around here all the time?" He looked utterly incredulous at the security director's suggestion. Prowl said nothing, merely putting a hand to his friend's arm and pulling the agitated spy to his seat.

Red Alert, to his credit, was un-phased by the outburst. "I grant you, Jazz, given Spike's recent history, this is a definite risk. Since we cannot afford to have our base personnel in such danger, measures must also be taken to prevent any further…breakdowns. There are two options before us. Option A would be constant sedation…"

"Why not just give him a lobotomy while you're at it?" Ratchet growled faintly, narrowing his eyes. "It'll only be SLIGHTLY more permanent."

"Ratchet has a point here, Red Alert," Prime said severely. "We do not keep the Dinobots sedated, so why should we do this to Spike?"

"The Dinobots are a combat group, one that does not interact with the rest of the crew in any significant fashion. Besides which it has been proven that they do not display any of Spike's berserker tendencies, hence why Spike is would be sedated," Red Alert replied smoothly, not missing a beat.

"One problem there, Red. What do we do when Spike's systems adapt to the sedation cartridges?" Ratchet demanded. "You know damn well they will – they always do. Your idea may work for a while, but eventually Spike would become immune to the sedatives, and we'd be back to square one."

"Which brings us to option B," Red Alert stated curtly, pausing for a moment before delivering the most singularly chilling word in the cybertronnian lexicon. "Debugging."

"Oh, SLAG no!"

"Are you insane?!"

"Get this quack outta here!"

Red Alert recoiled slightly, having not expected the sheer vehemence of the objections leveled his way by the majority of the Autobots present, but it was now apparent that he may have gone just an inch too far. Even the impartial Optimus Prime's optics narrowed subtly, not at all amused by what Red Alert had proposed. "Red Alert," his voice calm but possessing a dangerous undertone to it, "You had better have a superb reason for even suggesting what I think you are suggesting."

"Indeed I do," Red Alert said hastily before composing himself, waiting for the ruckus to die down. Once the angry furor had lessoned, and all optics were fixed on him (albeit, set in hard glares), he proceeded with his justification. "Under regular circumstances we would be able to simply send an Autobot with Spike's potential problems back to his home or even to a psychiatric institute, but in Spike's case that simply cannot be done." He looked around, pleased to know that most (but not all) of his compatriots had calmed down enough to see the logic in his words, though he did not dare allow himself a smile. "From a standpoint of both operational safety and resources, it would be far better to attempt to fix the source of the problem. That is why I feel it is best that Spike be submitted for having his mind debugged."

"You are aware," Ratchet said with only the barest veneer of calm, "of how incredibly dangerous that is? If anything went wrong-"

"I am keenly aware of the dangers, Ratchet," Red Alert interjected, cutting off the perturbed medical officer, "But if he can be cured of his rage, then we-"

"It's not that simple, Red Alert."

All heads turned to the Autobot who had been sitting opposite from the security chief - one who had remained silent throughout every exchange that had been made up to this point.

Optimus turned his head to face the new speaker. "So then, Smokescreen. You have heard Red Alert's arguments, seen his evidence; what say you in Spike's defense?"

Smokescreen gave a little nod and rose to his feet, taking his place next to Prime.

"When Spike returned to us after the initial discovery of his now permanent state of being, it was my job to keep watch over him and to see to how he would adjust to life as an Autobot," Smokescreen's face became downcast, and he glanced away in shame. "Foolishly, I treated him as I would treat any Autobot, and, using that as my baseline, I concluded all would soon be right with him if it was not already. For my hubris, we have seen the results and are having this meeting." But now Smokescreen's face began to gain confidence as he once again faced his comrades. "Since then I have taken up studies of human nature, psychology and society in order to get a more in-depth look at the human mind; at Spike's mind. After all, no matter what body he wears now, Spike's core programming is – and likely always will be – human." He gave a dramatic pause, looking around to see if they were following him. Pleased that he had the rapt attention of his cohorts (along with a dubious look from Red Alert) Smokescreen continued. "After reviewing studies of the human mind and human psychology, I believe that Spike's actions, though extreme, were natural for him given the circumstances of the situation."

A murmur started up from the group, and Ironhide's rough voice was the first to find words.

"Natural? How in tarnation could Spike plucking Skywarp like a chicken be natural?!"

"That will take a while to explain, but it all makes sense once I'm done," Smokescreen assured them, waving his hands to placate the somewhat agitated veteran mech. "You see, when I was reading up on the human mind, I started by trying to find what it was that drove them. As you well know, Autobots and Depticons alike are at the very core of their beings driven by a base programming which is expressed in various ways; the warrior ethos of the Decepticons and the builder ethos of the Autobots is the greatest driving force in our respective peoples. However, Spike's people are not driven by these things; what they are driven by is survival."

"Survival?" Prime inquired.

"Yes, survival," Smokescreen nodded. "Survival of self, survival of family, survival of tribe… at its core, the human mind is geared to these things, even if the human in question is unaware of it. After the battle, Spike informed me that Skywarp had attempted to murder a pair of humans, a mother and a child." He gave the puzzled and slightly indignant expressions of his companions a rueful smile. "Yes, we would all be outraged in that situation, but what we did not understand is the degree to which this racial survival drive amplifies that reaction. For Spike this was absolutely unacceptable and deserving of the most punitive response possible." Another pause accompanied by a grim sigh. "Doubly so because, not only was Skywarp trying to kill a pair of humans, he was trying to kill a mother and child; human males are conditioned to be protective of females and children. His response was what any human would have done in his place."

Smokescreen was privately pleased to note the thoughtful looks that came over the faces of those present… all save Red Alert, who looked more then a little incredulous.

"If survival is Spike's core drive, then won't that mean he'll abandon us to save his own hide should the occasion arise?" he demanded in an accusatory tone. Smokescreen groaned and shook his head.

"You haven't been paying attention Red Alert. The human drive for survival can and does extend beyond the self. In a sense, Spike regards us as his tribe now, and as such he will do everything in his power to ensure OUR survival. Hell, he even regards some of us as family."

"Family? Us?" Prowl raised a browridge, prompting a chuckle from Ratchet.

"Ain't you ever seen Spike and Bumblebee together? If it weren't for the fact I got have a core processor, I'd almost say it's like those two were sparked together."

"Duly noted," Prowl nodded, skillfully hiding his embarrassment at having overlooked the famous friendship between Spike and Bumblebee.

In the mind of Optimus Prime the cogs were turning (literally), and behind his facemask he smiled. "So what you are suggesting to us, Smokescreen, is that Spike maimed Skywarp NOT necessarily due to an uncontrolled rage, but the triggering of a rather fierce protective instinct?"

"Exactly," Smokescreen nodded with a triumphant grin. "Though, from what I've seen, calling that instinct 'rather fierce' is like saying the surface of this planet's sun is 'rather warm'. If all humans had Spike's capabilities, then there would be a whole lot more wingless seekers moaning around." He returned his attentions to the crowd. "And so you see, Spike is not an uncontrollable danger to us all, merely human reacting as any human would to the situation. And, for those reasons, I feel that he should not be taken off-duty permanently." His expression became grim once more. "And it is for those same reasons that debugging simply won't work. You would have to completely wipe out that human core programming. All debugging will achieve is to simply destroy what makes Spike Spike."

"That's all well and good, Smokescreen," Red Alert's blunt voice rang out. "But you seem to neglect one small detail; he still lost his temper and endangered his own life and potentially the lives of his fellow Autobots. Suppose his aim were to become blurry if he were to enter another one of these rages."

"Aw lighten up Red," Jazz said dismissively, on the verge of beginning his own speech when Optimus raised his hand.

"No, Jazz, he is correct," the Autobot leader sighed out. "Recklessness is recklessness, and Spike's actions nearly resulted in his death. Differences in core directives or not, he must have better control if he is to participate in combat. It is for that reason that I have determined that Spike WILL be placed on probation." He paused and waited patiently through the boos and hisses coming from the more vocal members of the cabinet before continuing. "However, it will only last for a month. That is my final word, but if there are any of you who wish to object to this course of action…" His optics scanned the room. Though Red Alert looked petulant, he made no move to make any dissent. Pleased that, for the most part, his decision was accepted, Prime set his hands before him, interlocking his fingers. "Then it is settled. Spike shall henceforth be barred from active duty until his month's probation is over…"

"Actually, there MIGHT be a bit of a problem there, Prime," Jazz piped up. "Not that I'm objecting to this probation dealie or anything, but what exactly is he going to do until his time's over?"

"Good point," Smokescreen nodded. "I mean, do we really want to risk him going stir-crazy? Remember what happened with Ironhide?"

"HEY!" An indignant squawk rang out from the aforementioned security director. "I wasn't THAT bad!"

"Near the end of your probation you'd stolen scrap metal from Hoist's workshop, welded them into effigies of the Decepticons, and then proceeded to insult and attempt to interrogate them," Prowl said dryly. "If that does not cover your definition of "that" bad, then I should hope we never have to endure the nightmare you would be on a truly bad day."

Ratchet chuckled audibly at the memory while Ironhide grumbled incoherently, and Prime put a hand to his chin. "You raise an excellent point Jazz… if anyone has any suggestions for what kind of duty Spike should be placed on during his time off, do tell me."

A silence came over the came over the room as the various bots thought about what possible duty would be best for Spike. It couldn't have been more then three minutes, but the tension made it seem like an eternity.

Then Ratchet snapped his fingers with a metallic click, a smile breaking out over his usually stern face as his optics brightened.

"I got it!"

All heads turned to face him, and Optimus' face brightened with curiosity, "Ratchet?"

"Give him to me. I'll keep his sorry aft out of trouble, all right."


	13. Detente

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Thirteen: Détente **

Since Spike's return from the battle and his subsequent confinement to his quarters after his repair, the atmosphere around the Ark had been… tense, for lack of a better word. Oh, the Autobots may have been doing their best to keep calm about the situation, acting perfectly natural even as their highest ranking members determined the fate of their friend and comrade. Of course, no matter how 'normal' they were acting, the tension hung over the Autobots collective heads like some foul, toxic cloud, a thing that not even the most putrid, bad-air day of Los Angeles could conceive of. The poisonous cloud of anxiety wafted around the base, spread out amongst the tense bots; when they entered the lounge though, the tension and sheer, gut-wrenching anticipation became concentrated in that singular room, ironically meant to be a place of relaxation for the Ark warriors.

And that was when the talks started. It had been idle conversation at first, over any number of subjects that would not be out of place under ideal circumstances. Human pop culture, battle tactics, little pet projects and schemes… nothing out of the ordinary at all in the content of these conversations. Of course, the sheer normalness of it was what made things so tense, so unnatural; it was plainly obvious that things just WEREN'T normal. It continued like this, the unnatural averageness of it all… and then someone popped the question about a certain subject; Spike.

It was inevitable, really.

First it started out as a conversation about what they might be planning to do with Spike. Between the two that started the conversation, theories began to fly back and forth, until others in the lounge overheard and decided to give their own two cents. The beginners of this discussion were now forgotten as new debaters rose to the fore, until new things began to be espoused, all of it revolving around Spike… some of those ideas rather unflattering. Needless to say it was inevitable that the crowd at Ark was now standing off, split in two halves of debaters, one side in support of Spike while the other was somewhat… less then supportive.

"It's official, you've gone off the deep end!" spat Sunstreaker to Mirage, barely keeping himself in check. His side consisted of the majority of bots in the room, meaning himself, Sideswipe, Hound, Bluestreak, Hoist, Seaspray, Beachcomber and Wheeljack. Sunstreaker's declaration was met with a chorus of agreement by his group, all of whom were looking at those across them with anger in their optics, feeling as though that the opinions held by the others was nothing short of betrayal of their longtime friend.

Mirage, with a cold dignity few could muster, gave his calm response. "Listen to reason, Sunstreaker- assuming that word holds any meaning to you. At this point, Spike is DANGEROUSLY unpredictable, more so then you or the Dinobots. So long as he stays and serves, we are all in danger of him flying off the handle." His clinical, calm response only frustrated Sunstreaker further, who looked as though he wanted nothing more then to leap at the infuriatingly un-agitated Mirage. Mirage's own group was comprised of him, Cliffjumper, Gears, Huffer, Brawn and Tracks, and they gave their own words of agreement to their spokesbot's words.

The rest of the Autobots were out on patrol (lucky them), while the Dinobots had retired to their quarters. Although they were sorely tempted head out to the lounge, if only to silence the irritating noise that was radiating from there like a toxic spill.

The heated debate continued on, irregardless of the Dinbots' feelings on the matter…

"Look, he's been through a LOT in recent times. Can't you understand that this is difficult? That maybe he really doesn't like the changes he's had to put up with?" Hound was, to his credit, calmer than Sunstreaker, but underneath he was seething with anger. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, the things that were coming out of his friends mouths… was this how they really felt, or was it the paranoia talking? He prayed it was just the paranoia.

"Big whoop! What he's become… its unnatural I tell ya!" came a crass response from none other then Mister Insensitive himself, Cliffjumper. His own thoughts on the situation were, thankfully, not widely shared by his compatriots, some of whom even had the good sense to look embarrassed by his actions.

"He'll become a drain on our resources, is what he'll become!" came a shrill complaint from Huffer. "If he can't fight, he ain't any good to us, and, if he stays here, he's gonna take up the most energon without doing any of the work! It's not fair!"

This set off an entirely new string of debates and a new chorus of raised voices. However, in the cacophonous clash none seemed to notice the conspicuous absence of a singularly important mech, one whose opinion would perhaps matter the most out of all the mechs in the entire Ark.

Bumblebee sat in the far corner of the lounge, nursing his cube of energon, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear or really care about what his fellow Autobots were going on about. Right now his best friend was undergoing a hearing, his very future being determined for him, and Bumblebee could not help but feel… that all this was entirely his fault. He groaned and leaned his head into a hand. What had he been THINKING, taking Spike to the battlefield like that?! If he hadn't taken Spike to the base like that… or maybe if he'd been quick enough to dodge Megatron's attack then maybe… maybe…

His frame shuddered. It was still his fault, what-ifs aside. His friend could end up being placed in stasis lock, and it was all because he had to bring him to the field. Bumbebee's depressed face twisted in anger, and it was just then he heard something from across the room.

"-tellin' ya, he's just gonna keep causing problems if we let him off the hook! What if he snaps and ends up gettin' off scott-free because of that mental problems hocus-pocus slag?!"

Bumbebee growled and reminded himself that, no matter how good it made him feel, beating Cliffjumper over the head with a chair wasn't going to solve any of Spike's problems. Even if it WOULD make a fabulous source of stress relief. _Just ignore him, _the yellow Bug mentally told himself, _he's not worth getting angry over… nor are any of the others. They're just afraid, that's all… absolutely NO reason to lose your cool, Bumblebee old boy… _He was on the verge of calming himself down, when the next word he heard come out of Cliffjumper's mouth gave him cause to freeze up.

"-can't believe you're defending that slaggin' freak-"

The F-word. F-bomb. The big no-no.

Freak.

Cliffjumper had just called Spike a freak.

Cliffjumper had just called his friend a freak.

The cracking of the energon cube in Bumbebee's hands sounded eerily similar to the snapping of Bumblebee's final, frazzled nerve.

"**SHUT UP!!!" **

The formerly heated argument, and all who had partaken in it, abruptly fell silent, all heads turning in the direction of a VERY irate Bumblebee, who was getting to his feet. His fellows stared on in a kind of shocked awe, while the bug's optics blazed like an azure flame straight from the depths of the Pit itself.

Bumblebee's fury had only begun, however.

"You…you slagging, glitch-wracked, scrap-built, Con-kissing son of a dishwasher!!!" Bumblebee spat towards Cliffjumper as he made his way towards the red mini, who at this point was feeling a tad…frightened by the sudden aggression of his usually docile comrade. He started to back up and raise his hands to placate that irate bug, but it was no use. "How dare you! How slagging DARE you?! Spike's been put through a virtual HELL these past few weeks, and you have the temerity to call him a FREAK?!"

"I... I didn't mean-" Cliffjumper tried to speak up, tried to defend his blunder, but it was no use. The Volkswagen's tirade cut through his pleas like an acid laced knife.

"Didn't mean WHAT, exactly, hmm? Didn't mean to call him a freak? Well guess what you gas guzzling waste of space, THAT'S PRECISELY WHAT YOU CALLED HIM!!! Primus, what is WRONG with you people?!?" His head snapped in the direction of the group that had been badmouthing Spike, his rage filled cry mixing into a strange, strangled kind of pleading tone, as if he truly wanted to know what was wrong with them. Every mech present in the room just stared at Bee like he was some form of rabid wolverine, and even Sunstreaker was nonplussed. Never in their lives had they ever seen Bumblebee this angry before. Bumblebee would've been huffing and puffing if he could, but since he was free from that limitation, he could focus more on berating those who had dared to badmouth his friend. "Spike never asked for any of this to happen, he didn't plan it! It just happened, thanks to that bastard Megatron! Yet your screw heads are standing around here talking like he slaggin' meant for this to happen! Spike is our FRIEND, and we should be supporting him instead of… of…" Bumblebee's fervor died down, and his optics dimmed a little as he started to sound as though he was on the verge of breaking down.

"Nice speech, 'Bee," a jovial voice came from the entrance of the lounge, "Pity I wasn't hear to here all of it."

Those present immediately turned their attentions to the lounge entrance, their optics meeting the sight of none-other than Jazz and the rest of command, including Optimus Prime. Bumblebee's optics widened as he realized what this meant; they had reached their decision regarding Spike. The realization began to dawn on the others as they started to disperse from their groups, and gaze at their leadership with curious optics. Only Bumblebee dared speak, and he was clearly afraid to ask. "S-so it's over?" he asked quietly, "You've decided what to do with Spike…?"

"Affirmative," Prowl stated with a nod, coming in from the side of Jazz.

Bumblebee dimmed his optics and activated them again, the cybertronnian equivalent of taking a deep breath. "And… and the verdict…?" he looked ill, like he was on the verge of collapsing he was so anxious, a stark contrast to the hell-born ranting machine that had been at work moments ago. He almost seemed…vulnerable, even.

Optimus Prime, leader of them all, nodded in response. "The verdict is, although he lost control temporarily, he is ultimately not incompetent for combat duty. However, he will no longer partake in combat missions for a minimum of one month, and, during that time, he shall perform an alternate activity on the Ark."

The relief of those who had been rooting for Spike was obvious as they unintentionally slumped their postures, something they'd gained from observing humans for the past year or so. Those who were not in support remained upright, a few frowning slightly, but otherwise not objecting to this decision, if only for the moment at least. Seaspray, who had long been silent save for a few yells of encouragement, looked up at his leader with a raised ridge. "Well, don't leave us hanging… what's Spike gonna be doing now?" came his gurgling voice.

"Oh, you shall see," Prime said with a soft smile, while Ratchet grinned in malicious humor as the groans of the lounge group echoed off the walls, save for Bumblebee who was smiling in relief, not caring a bit about what Spike would be doing, only that he would be safe. Even in this extra relaxed state, the Bug did notice the frown present on Red Alert's face, but chose not to make anything out of it. He was too happy to really care. "Bumblebee," Prime stated, looking down at the yellow volkswagen, who snapped to attnetion after a few seconds.

"Yes sir?"

"I want you to accompany Ratchet and me to Spike's quarters. I wish for you to be present when we bring him the good news." Bumblebee's face lit up.

"Thanks Prime.. thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," Prime chuckled and waved Bumblebee over. "C'mon, let's get going," he turned and exited the lounge, followed dutifully by both Ratchet and Bumblebee, the latter having a noticable spring in his step as he took off after the two larger mechs. With that group gone, Jazz put his hands to his hips and raised a brow as he gazed into the crowd.

"Awright, which one of ya set 'Bee off?"

* * *

Spike sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, depression setting in as he felt the onset of his doom draw ever closer. He had been confined to his quarters ever since he'd been able to walk, and quite frankly the waiting was killing him.

"Come on Son… it'll turn out all right. You'll see," Sparkplug's comforting voice and pat on the side did little to brighten Spike's frankly, desolate spirits. As far as he was concerned, it was over; whatever came next, he would never be allowed on the battlefield again, not ever. Hell, he wasn't sure if he would even be let near the other Autobots… and why should he be? He'd failed… he'd utterly and completely failed at reigning in that rage… dammnit, he'd thought he was over that damn thing! But no… it didn't matter that the Noise was gone, that X was gone… he was still a glitched, metal Frankenstein _monster. _

Idly, he turned his head to focus on an object kept in a trophy case… an object that was most dear to his spark. It was an urn, a simple bronze urn… but within it was none other then the ashes of his human form. It had his name engraved on it, the final mark of William "Spike" Witwicky. He had a morbid fascination with the thing… it was the only bit of his humanity he had left. The last physical piece of evidence that he'd been human to begin with. And looking it comforted him, reassured him… and chilled him to his very core. How do you accurately describe the sensation of gazing upon your own grave…?

"Son? Didja hear me?"

Spike's optics widened and shook his head slightly, then looked down at his father, trying and failing to give a reassuring smile. "I heard you, dad…" _Now if only I could agree with you._

Sparkplug set his arms akimbo and gave his metallic son a disapproving look. Like hell he was going to accept THAT particular answer. "Son…" he said in that warning tone of his, to which Spike sighed and stared at the ceiling again.

"Okay, fine… I'm worried. I'm REALLY worried… about me, about you.. about everything. I thought I was done with this, that I was done being a livewire. Even without that monster in my head, I'm still a threat to myself and others. Why would…" Spike shuddered, "HOW could they ever accept me?"

Sparkplug shook his head. "Son, they may not all accept you, but you DO have friends among them, the same friends who risked life and limb to protect you, me, and everyone else on earth. I can't say I know what they're gonna do… but I don't think they're going to abandon you," a wry grin crossed the human's face. "C'mon Spike, you're gonna worry your parts off at this rate."

Spike smiled, and was about to offer his answer when the sound of the doors open set him sitting up, his attentions on the 'bots before him. Sparkplug shifted on the bench a bit due to his son's movements, but otherwise stayed where he was, also looking upon the forms of Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Bumblebee… all of whom held pleased expressions on their faces. Spike's gaze flitted from one Autobot to the next... he'd expected something a bit more… sombre? Serious? Certainly nothing glad. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he "cleared" his throat and gazed cautiously up at Prime. "Well… what's the verdict?" He was still worried, still tense and under the belief that he was perhaps a little unworthy of any kindness… but he held out the hope that maybe, just maybe he would be forgiven.

Prime gave him a level stare as he spoke, "It has been determined that you will be suspended from active patrol and combat for the next month. However, while you are serving out your suspension, you shall pursue an alternate function on the ship in keeping with your talents."

THAT got Spike's attention, his raised eyeridge an indication of such, while his father wore an "I told you so" look on his face as he smirked up at his robotic son. "Really? What'll I be doing?"

"Effective tommorrow, you will are to be deputized as a medic, and will be serving under Ratchet." At that, Ratchet smirked down at the horrified expression on Spike's face.

"But…me… a medic? Why?!"

"Cause, you've helped repair mechs in the past, you got the background and talent with mechanics… you're perfectly suited for it," Ratchet explained with a smile. Spike's shocked expression was maintained… but it slowly dissolved into an intesely relieved one.

"Oh….oh thank God…" Spike said, the gratitude more then obvious in his voice and opitcs. "I thought… I thought after what I'd done, you'd have me deactivated or something. I certainly didn't expect to be taken is as a medic…"

Ratchet scowled at him, but there was a bit of a twinkle in his optics. "After all the slaggin' work I did trying to patch your sorry aft back together? Ain't no way I'm letting you be shut down, kid."

Bumblebee, having been silent for the longest time, finally displayed some hint of being alive when his face broke out in a HUGE grin.

""I knew it would all work out, Spike. Don't worry. You'll make a great medic!" he cheered, too happy to now even think about what had happened only a few moments ago, in the lounge. No, his joy at his friend's continued service to the bots was more then enough to quash the unpleasant memories. The bug's happiness was contaigious, and Spike laughed at his friend's outburst.

"Yeah. Though, from what I've heard about working under Ratchet, de-activation might have been less painful," he chuckled as the CMO gave a mock indignant huff and glare.

"Laugh it up now boyo, 'cause come tomorrow…your aft is mine," for a moment he was so deadly serious sounding, that everyone present in the room gaped at him in shock, and more then a little fear.

It was Sparkplug who broke the silence.

"You know…technically his aft is MINE. Maybe we could work out a co-ownership deal…?"

Everyone broke out laughing, but moreso, everyone was simply relieved at the situation. Relieved that drastic measures hadn't been needed, relieved that Spike was all right, relieved that for now all was right with the universe, and that maybe things would continue to be all right from here on in.

"Oh…oh man that was good," Bumblebee said as he tried to steady his systems.

"I suppose I should resent the concept of being owned… but is there any other word that describes what I am at this point?" Spike grinned, to which Prime chuckled.

"I don't think there are any appropriate words to describe your new lot in life, Spike," Prime said with a smile, but then turned a tad more serious. "However, there is another stipulation to your service. You may not go out on long patrol, and may only drive or fly around the immediate area of the Ark. If in the event of a full scale attack, you may aid in the defense of the Ark, but only then. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, Prime," Spike nodded, fully understanding his leader's reasoing. "Crystal clear, sir."

* * *

And so it came to pass, that Spike spent the next month training under Ratchet, learning the mysteries of the cybertronnian body and how to cure what ailed it - all the while being terrified out of his mind by his new, direct superior. He sometimes thought that maybe he WAS being dealt the ultimate punishment, as serving under Ratchet was much like how his father had described being under a drill seargent in the army way back when.

But as Spike considered this comparison and continued to labor in the med bay, something else was at work in the Ark…

It had worked hard to maintain its secret, to keep itself anonymous and undetected within the databanks of Ark. That was an amazing feat in itself, acting like a malignant virus, staying undetected for so long despite the constant security sweeps. Oooh yess, it had such a chortle over that… no, not it. HE. HE had such a chortle over that fact. That, for all the hyperadvanced science at the disposal of these Autobot idiots, they still couldn't find little ol' him. He had observed his sibling from afar, seeing what the bots had done for his "punishment".

Nonexistant blood boiled.

It was HIS life that had been stolen by the organic interloper, not the other way around! HE should have been the one down there getting repremanded, not that vile sibling of his! It wasn't fair, it wasn't right! But, within the catacombs of Ark's cyberspace, he calmed himself. He learnt the hard way that when he got agitated, his presence could be detected. The first time this happened, he was almost deleted by Teletraan-1 – _would_ have been deleted if he hadn't manage to calm down enough to be regarded as a minor glitch in the system rather then the true threat he was. He grinned at that (as much as he could grin, anyway). He was so close and they suspected nothing! Nothing at all! He would have been convulsing with laughter if not for one small detail; he lacked a body.

But that would come to end soon… very soon, as he directed the maintainence drones in the unused section of the spare parts closet, a part of it that looked like something out a horror story, filthy isolated thing that it was. Downloading information and schematics directly from Teletraan-1 had been risky, but the benefits yielded from the action were tremendous as he commanded the drones to put the final touches to his little project… to the future that would be his and his alone - the life that his spiteful organic sibling had denied him.

Through the optics of his puppets, he observed the still form lying in artificial opening that had been made in the wall of the room, the one he'd secretly installed over the course of his time within the system. Painstaking work, but worth all the risk. He wanted to touch the body, to feel it and rub himself against it, somehow, to appreciate the artistry he had wrought. He was already making such glorious things despite his relative inexperiance… proof of his superiority over his sibling… over everything, actually.

That was his conclusion after a little observation and research…. He was the only thing in the universe that mattered. The only thing that was even WORTH mattering. And he'd show them… all of them. Autobots, Decepticons, humans… each and every one of them would learn WHY he was the only one that mattered, why he out of all deserved to exist.

A drone made a final adjustment… and X smiled an invisible, malignant smile.

_Yesss…yesss! Now is the time. Now is the time to make them see… enjoy your vaction, brother o'mine. Enjoy your friends, our father's love, your life… it all ends now. _

_I'm coming back, brother. I'm taking back all you stole, and more… _

A pair of optics glowed an eerie green, illuminating a face covered by a plate.

He was online, physical, feeling. Swept up in the input from his new body but in control. Not only in control of this form…but of the Ark's systems he had subverted as well. Under his plate-covered face, his mouth broke out into a wide, horrible grin.

He was back.

And he would be staying this time.


	14. Cacophony

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Fourteen: **Cacophony

Note: I am terribly sorry that this one took so long, it really shouldn't have. But, both college and a family crisis took their toll on my work, so I hope you will all be understanding. To make for that, this one's a biggie; a double sized chapter! In the future there can be no sure guesses of WHEN I'll post new chapters, just that I WILL eventually. I'm not giving up on this fic, not ever.

* * *

The day started normally enough.

Ironhide, Optimus Prime and Prowl were all reviewing recordings of the Decepticon attack which had served as Spike's trial by fire. The footage had been taken from the oil drilling plant's security cameras. All three watched with grim faces as the carnage played over and over before them on the screen. "It just don't make sense…" Ironhide murmured as he observed the relentless destruction on screen.

"Correction; it doesn't make sense at the moment. Careful observation will reveal the motivations of the Decepticons in due course," Prowl said briskly, but the subtle inflection in his voice revealed his own disgust at what they were watching. Optimus Prime could hardly blame the two for being puzzled. During their stay on earth, the Decepticons were usually indifferent when it came to human casualties. Although the occasional Decepticon would go out of his way to torment a few humans, on the whole, the Decepticons regarded humans as little more then ants, not worth going out of their way to kill. But not this attack… this attack was simply bloodthirsty. Decepticons normally went for energy first, but, in this case, they were going out of their way to wreak havoc and destruction amongst the humans with unfortunate levels of success.

Prime just couldn't wrap his mind around it, and he groaned in frustration. They'd been at this for what seemed like an eternity, cooped up in the command room witnessing this atrocity over and over. It was maddening. What had the Decepticons hoped to accomplish with such blatant brutality against the humans. What did they WANT?

It was then that the answer came from Prowl. "I have determined why the Decepticons initiated this assault," he stated in that calm tone of his. The heads of the other two Autobots turned to face him, Prime's brow raised and his optics inquisitive, while Ironhide's own expression betrayed his anxiousness at wanting to know what the slag had been going on.

"Well don't leave us in the dark, Prowl. Give us what you got!" Ironhide half demanded of his colleague. Prowl, with his characteristic rationality, began to explain.

"This attack commenced shortly after Spike's body was reformatted, more precisely shortly after he was trained by the others in the functions of his newly remade body. It is my theory that Laserbeak or Reflector may have been lurking around the area and reporting progress back to the Decepticons."

"Makes sense, they'd want to know about what our newest member was capable of," Optimus murmured, putting a hand to his chin. "But that doesn't explain how that ties into this." He nodded toward the freeze frame of the attack that was currently blazoned upon the computer screens of the command room.

"Quite opposite to your assessment, it DOES tie into this directly," Prowl stated crisply, "Megatron has shown over the vorns a certain spiteful pettiness toward those who have wronged him, whether those wrongs are real or imagined. After the first incident with Spike, what did Megatron do?"

"He went over to the hospital and incinerated Spike's body," Prime replied patiently, aware that his subordinate was going somewhere with this.

"Precisely. Now then, given that prior incident, why would Megatron go out of his way to wreak havoc against the humans in conjunction with Spike's success in adapting to his new body?" Prowl asked rhetorically. "Especially when you consider that he himself had held back from the battle until Spike entered the field and de-winged Skywarp. Furthermore, upon review, it is clear that the rest of the Decepticons actively kept the rest of us from joining in that fight. In other words, they effectively isolated Spike and Megatron from the rest of the battle while the two were engaged in their own personal melee, without chance of interference from everyone. Now think about it; WHY does Megatron ever take on one foe during a battle and one foe only?"

It took only a few moments for the other mechs to put two and two together, and Ironhide vented his reaction through a half-snarled profanity. Optimus could hardly blame the security director. "It would be just like that fraggin' bastard son of a Junkion, wouldn't it?" Ironhide growled bitterly, and Optimus nodded gravely.

"Indeed. This complicates matters greatly though. Megatron has been relatively quiet as of late, but for how much longer can that last? How long until he decides to lash out against the humans again, simply for the sake of this vendetta he has against Spike?" Optimus looked at his fellow Autobots, and Prowl sighed heavily.

"With Megatron, there are no certainties. Perhaps he will move on, perhaps he will engage in a war of genocide against the humans… all that can be ascertained is that Spike and his people are now in a considerably greater amount of danger."

"We gotta tell him," Ironhide said suddenly and got up from his seat. "He needs to know this. Scratch that, he deserves to know." Before either Prowl or Prime could stop him the red mech had already gotten to the door… and discovered to his shock that it wouldn't open. "What the slag…?" he raised a brow and again punched the access panel, only for the door to remain closed. Ironhide quickly lost his temper with the machine and began yelling at it as Prowl and Prime advanced towards the quarrelsome contraption, wondering what was up.

Prime's brow furrowed in curiosity. If this was a system malfunction, either Wheeljack or Perceptor would have let them in on it. It might have been a prank from one of the more playful Ark residents, but he'd made it abundantly clear that such activities would NOT be tolerated during an important meeting. Taking his swearing friend's shoulder, Optimus gently nudged Ironhide aside. "Calm yourself, old friend. Berating the thing isn't going to make it open any faster." He then looked up at an audio transmitter located in the corner of the ceiling. "Teletraan-1, open this door immediately."

"Acknowledged," came the computer's voice, and a chime was heard signaling the computer going out of its way to open it.

To Optimus' shock, nothing happened.

"This is most odd," Prowl murmured, putting his hand to his chin and tapping it, his mind already at work to determine what might get them out. Ironhide snorted.

"Aw, ya think?" he growled sarcastically as he eyed the panel menacingly.

"Just what is going on here…?" Prime said out loud and set his hand to the door.

That was when they heard the noise.

* * *

In the training facility, Spike was engaged with Sunstreaker in some intense close combat training while Hoist and Grapple looked on. Technically, they were supposed to be doing maintenance, but stopped to watch the near-carnage that the two were inflicting upon each other. Spike and Sunstreaker were locked in combat so fierce that the two observers privately wondered if the two were truly training or if a _real _fight had broken out.

For a moment it seemed that Sunstreaker had the upper hand against his larger, stronger opponent… when suddenly the lights deactivated.

"Whoa!"

"What the…?"

"What the deuce is going on?"

Sunstreaker and Spike froze in place, Sunstreaker on Spike's back and pulling his head back by his chin. Almost as if nothing had happened between the two, they looked around curiously, and then Sunstreaker hopped off the larger Autobot's body to allow him to get up. The instant Spike was on his feet, he looked around warily. "Remind me again; how often does the Ark have a blackout?"

"It's not supposed to have blackouts," Hoist murmured and activated his headlights. "Even if the main power was disabled somehow, the backup generators should have kicked in by now… something is not right here."

"I smell Cons…" Sunstreaker growled and looked around edgily, unspacing his weapons and prepping them for a fight.

"I somehow doubt that. With an advantage like this on their side, they'd most likely be hooting and hollering like a pack of quasi-evolved simian savages rather then taking proper advantage of the power outage," Grapple sniffed and then eyed Sunstreaker's weapon with faint disdain. "And is that really necessary?"

Sunstreaker snarled and twirled around on his metallic heel to deliver a sound tongue-lashing to the Autobot architect, when suddenly it hit them…. The most AWFUL noise any of them had heard in their long lives. The unnatural, almost demonic sound caught them all off-guard, and they shrieked in agony and clutched their audio-receptors, Grapple affected so badly by the audio onslaught that he'd been forced down onto his knee. However, even as Spike pressed his hands so hard over his own receptors that he thought they might break, a dread realization filled his being; he'd heard this noise before.

_It can't be! _he thought in a near-panic. _Sweet merciful god in heaven, this can't be what I think it is, it just can't! _His mind was racing to not so long ago, to that horrid encounter he'd had with the pre-existing personality within Autobot-X's body, the thing he'd dubbed "Noise". The nightmares about the experience suddenly returned with a vengeance, and words could not describe the sheer amount of horror that was currently pulsating through Spike's mind, cutting more clearly into his being then the familiar and sickening noise that had wracked his comrades. Soon though the noise subsided in volume, but remained as an irritating, un-avoidable backdrop. Sunstreaker groaned loudly. "What the frag…?"

"That was just hideous!" Grapple proclaimed as he got back on his feet, rubbing his audio-receptors. "Great Primus, I'm surprised that my hearing isn't damaged from that repulsive racket."

"No kidding…" Hoist nodded and looked around curiously. Sunstreaker, now fully recovered, noted that Spike had not budged from his spot since the onslaught began…and even seemed to be shaking. He raised a brow and looked over at his sparring partner.

"Spike? Yo, what's wrong with you?" He certainly didn't sound concerned, perhaps a little annoyed even, but for Sunstreaker this was as much concern as he would show for anyone outside of his brother. To his growing annoyance, Spike did not answer, and where it not for the irritating background music of hellacious static he might have heard Spike murmuring to himself. The yellow gladiator growled in irritation. "Didn't you hear me? I'm sure whatever you got going on over there is fascinating and all, but we got a situation here and-"

"It's him…." Spike said in a nearly dead voice. Sunstreaker's face conveyed his sense of "I'm-confused-as-hell" nicely, while the more sympathetic Grapple walked over to Spike and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What do you mean, Spike?"

"Him… X, he's here… .this is the noise he made to cloud my mind. It's exactly the same! He's here somehow, I know it!" Spike was looking around wildly, almost as if he expected the specter that had almost claimed his mind to suddenly materialize out of the walls and strike at him.

"Okay, Spike, you've lost it," Sunstreaker proclaimed. "You're telling me that this Primus-awful sound came out of YOUR head? Riiight, and next you'll be saying-"

"_Hurry, hurry, come my way, little brother wants to play…" _

The voice came through the intercom system, and the sound of the disturbingly amused tones stopped everyone cold. A chill shuddered through the collective systems of those present while Spike's shaking increasing exponentially as he tried to keep his wits about him – a task which he was finding rather difficult considering the source of many nightmares had suddenly reappeared…

Sunstreaker was not deterred by this confirmation of the source of Spike's abolished madness. Catching himself after his rather undignified freeze-up, he snorted in derision and glared sarcastically to the ceiling, as if the malignant presence would be able to see him.

"Oooo, VERY scary, turning off the power and making that Primus awful racket. What do you do for an encore? Play a little Bach and cackle maniacally?" His tone was so caustic it should have reduced titanium to a fizzling, stinky mass of melted metal. He turned to Spike. "Come on, Spike. Don't let this guy punk ya. Whoever or whatever he is, he is going DOWN."

Spike took in some air and steadied himself, a human habit he had carried over from his change. He knew the golden gladiator was right… he could not let this thing psyche him out. He had to view things in a more rational light, and the conclusion drawn from that light was that the Ark had been invaded by a malignant, self-absorbed intelligence that had it in for him. Truthfully, the thought of that did little to give true comfort, but it did help remind him of just what the thing was, and steeled his nerves to it. "Yes…yes you're right," Spike said softly before raising himself to his full height, his optics narrowed. "No way in hell am I gonna let this bastard continue on like this… come on!" he nearly snarled as he turned and headed for the door.

"That's the spirit!" Sunstreaker grinned ferally and glanced over his shoulder at Hoist and Grapple. "Yo! Tweedle Dee and Dum, let's get a move on!" The Autobot duo, who had been standing back and observing the traded words, nodded dutifully and followed the golden centurion as Spike lead the group out.

However, the instant that Spike was past the doors, they slammed right behind him and refused to open. The clanging of impacting bodies and indignant squawks rang through the sheet metal while Spike whipped around in a near frenzied panic. He looked up and down at the impassive plating, brow furrowed in confusion.

"What the slag…?" he murmured to himself as he felt around the door, while from behind he could hear some profuse swearing coming from Sunstreaker, and could hear some exploratory taps coming from the other side. Soon Hoist's voice sang out over the profanity of Sunstreaker.

"Spike? Spike, are you still there?"

"Still here, Hoist. And confused as hell. What just happened?"

"The doors just closed on our faces and won't slagging open. What does it look like genius!?" That was Sunstreaker, no doubt about it. The golden warrior's nearly trademarked impatient snarl was very hard to miss, and Spike could not help but chuckle at the perturbed tone in spite of the situation.

"Aside from the obvious, are you guys alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine," Sunstreaker growled. Sounds of scraping filtered through, likely from the Lamborghini's attempts to pry open the door. "When I get outta here I'm gonna-AHG!"

Suddenly there were yells coming from the other side of the door along with the sound of shifting machinery and tearing metal. Spike's optics shot wide open and he gave a horrified yell. He leapt back, charged his arm blaster and leveled it at the door… only to swear profusely when the blast met the impact-resistant shielding that slid down in over the entryway. That shielding was only to be used in case of an emergency, such as a full fledged Decepticon invasion. As the muffled yells and screams continued, Spike lost it. He screamed and fired repeatedly into the shielding, not caring that his blasts barely left a dent.

Then the voice rang again.

"_Hurry, hurry, come my way, or none shall live through this day." _

Spike's head shot up and he looked around wildly, just barely comprehending the words spoken to him through his blind rage and panic. Snarling he turned his gun up at the ceiling and waved it around, trying desperately to find something, _anything _to shoot. Anything to release his panic and rage and to make things right… but to no avail.  
By some supreme act of willpower he was able to force words from his vocalizer. "What the hell have you done to them you insane slag-brained piece of shit!?" he snarled out at the air.

"_Ship entwined, trapped in steel, nothing harmful just unreal." _

Spike was starting to hate that rhyming tune. He might have groaned at the sheer corniness of it if not for the severity of the situation at hand. Cautiously, the big mech made his way back to the door and strained his audio sensors as he pressed against the heavy shielding. "Guys, can you hear me?" he called in a loud voice, not quite shouting but enough so that he might be heard through the tough, alien metals separating him from his friends.

"Yes, yes, we hear you!" came the panicked shriek of Grapple. "The ship…the ship it came alive! It came alive and cocooned us!"

Spike's optics widened. X had THAT degree of control over the ship? He didn't know how what Grapple was telling him could be possible… maybe he was over-reacting? "Grapple, calm down; you're not making any sense." Spike said as calmly as he could as he continued to press his audio sensor against the shield.

"The paneling of the ship opened up of its own accord; wires and metallic tendrils formed FROM the ship itself attacked us and restrained us!" Grapple explained in a somewhat calmer tone, though the terror and panic in his voice obvious, and Spike could not blame him; it sounded like something out of a horror film. Hell, this entire situation was something out of a horror film, as far as Spike was concerned. He took in some air before speaking again.

"Grapple, I want you and the others to listen to me. X…this lunatic wants me to go somewhere, and he says he'll let you guys go if I do. So, I'm gonna be gone for a bit-"

"WE HEARD HIM THE FIRST TIME!!!" Sunstreaker roared. "JUST DO WHAT THE NUT SAYS AND GET US OUTTA HERE!!!"

"All right, all right, sorry…" Spike rubbed the back of his head sheepishly; he hadn't realized that it was somewhat redundant to explain the situation to his compatriots when the disturbing voice of their captor could be heard through the intercom. With that settled, Spike turned a wary optic to the intercom system. "All right, let's get this over with you malignant mistake," he growled out, "If you want me so bad… show me the way or something! Unless you LIKE the idea of me stumbling in the dark!"

As if on command, a line of lights flickered on down the hall, bright enough to show a way but dim enough to cast sinister shadows in all directions and send shivers down Spike's spine. Darkness he could deal with, but things like this were another thing entirely… but quite frankly he could care less at this point. A determined glare on his face, he made his way down the hall.

* * *

His eyes and ears were the security cameras all across the Ark, and his hands were the tendrils forged from the very bowels of the ship.

It was not overnight that he had been able to accomplish this, ooh no. While he had busied himself constructing a body safe from the view of the Ark's inhabitants, he'd set about on ANOTHER project - one that would be of equal importance in the long run. Even HIS splintered mind could grasp that he alone would not be able to stand against the entire Autobot crew who would surely back his hated sibling in fighting him. He had to find a way to neutralize them… and it was Wheeljack's personal files that provided the key to such an undertaking. Using his hidden connection to the master computer of the ship it had been child's play to access them. He had sifted through those files hoping to find a subtle way to accomplish this goal and found something most wonderful; schematics for an advanced form of microbot. What Wheeljack had conceived of as a new means to repair areas that were difficult to reach, would now serve as a means to ensure control throughout the entire base.

Constructing the tiny things without anyone noticing had been easy, but getting them into the systems was a circuit racking chore that had been executed with precise perfection. Really, it was some of his greatest work, getting the bugs into the wiring and power couplers and modifying them from within. Through the bugs he had reinforced and granted both movement and flexibility to those cables, wires and couplers with some pillaged servos and some rather sturdy scrap metal (He still found it amusing that just because a piece of metal had a tiny dent in it, the Autobots had regarded it as scrap without regards to the relative toughness of it) creating tentacles of surprising strength which he had now unleashed.

All across the massive ship, Autobots of all stripes found themselves attacked by the very wiring out of the walls. All up and down the halls yells and shouts of protest could be heard as well as the sound of metal slamming on metal as they tried to break free. The frustrated roars of Grimlock and the Dinobots rang loudest throughout the base, vibrating the halls around their little private room as they tried to smash through the impact doors. X's restraints had not been sufficient to hold them, but they were finding the doors beyond even their formidable ability to smash through.

X smiled under his faceplate as he saw, through the security systems, Spike make his way down the hall, tension written on his every metallic feature. It made him feel good inside.

_Ah, but there is still one more player to add to the game, _X thought to himself gleefully as he searched the systems and opened a single door, one keeping a very special prisoner.

Now it was all a matter of waiting.

* * *

Red Alert crept stealthily down the halls which echoed with the frustrated shouts of his comrades. The infamously paranoid security director had been processing reports down at his office when the chaos had struck. He'd been on the verge of fits when his attempts at escaping his own office had failed, in addition to his audio receptors being over stimulated by that utterly HIDEOUS loud noise. When it subsided he did not know if he'd gone mad or not, but he could have sworn he heard talking in the distance… and then the door to his office opened. The naturally suspicious Red Alert had regarded this development with the utmost of scrutiny, but presented with the opportunity to escape from the confines of his own room, he got out before whatever force was responsible for all this chaos decided it would rather have him go mad in his own place of work.

After his escape, manufactured as it seemed, he made his way down the halls listening to his comrades' own yells and attempts to liberate themselves from their predicament, occasionally testing door controls. Try as he might, it became abundantly clear to Red Alert that he could not help in any real fashion; it stung him to his Spark that he was so unable to aid the others, and he had been on the verge of losing his cool (more so) and screaming to Primus Almighty his rage and fear when suddenly….

The lights, they started to flicker down the hall. At first it seemed a random, unnerving thing but upon closer inspection the security director realized that this was no random failure of the lights; it was code. It took him a moment to figure it out, but for a mech who had familiarized himself with every form of coded communication that the universe could offer, it was easy as energon cake to decipher upon recognizing the crude Morse patterns of the lighting. His optics narrowed as he ran by the message in his head. _Hurry, hurry, down this way, a companion for my sibling will play, _his optics narrowed further, being able to practically hear the disturbing nursery rhyme style of the message. _Hurry your way? And how do you propose I do that? _he mentally asked, frowning sourly. His answer to his unspoken question came in a dim line of lights leading down the hall. For the briefest of moments he allowed the paranoid possibility that whatever had taken the ship might be able to read his thoughts, but soon enough dismissed the ludicrous theory as he cautiously made his way down and unspaced his weapon. He was taking no chances, and glared at every warping and twisting shadow as if it might materialize into a Decepticon ready to pounce and tear him a new exhaust port.

He knew he'd been down these halls a million times over, and yet it seemed like an alien and almost labyrinthine place now thanks to the noise and the dimmed lights. As long as he focused on the lights though, he at least had a clear path and time to think. What was this? Noise… that was Soundwave's domain, was it not? Could it be that this was the latest in the long line of Decepticon plots? Yes, that thought had credence to it, but something about this just wasn't very… Decepticon. All signs pointed to whoever was doing this having the absolute upper hand, yet nothing save imprisonment and audio assault was occurring. If the Decepticons had been the ones to initiate this, they'd have been tearing into their hapless foes and shredding the entire Ark asunder in unholy reverie. No, the Decepticons could be ruled out, which was both a relieving and terrifying revelation. Decepticons he KNEW how to fight, but this was something new, a variable he had not planned for. But he would adapt, that much Red Alert was certain of, he would adapt and find this thing and then kill it and then…

Wait… he heard something, amidst all the unholy noise. He KNEW he did. Red Alert could feel that familiar creeping sensation upon him, that horrible sense of impending doom and faint elation as his processor raced to determine what it was. There was a regular thumping… no, a metallic tapping made only by one thing; feet.

Moving feet.

The security director's mind was already abuzz with a thousand and one scenarios, none of them good. It would have been foolishly optimistic on his part to think that whoever was making this sound was a fellow Autobot. In his experience, optimism usually led towards disaster. More likely it belonged to some form of intruder… perhaps whoever was responsible for this current chaos? Yes, that was the most likely thing. Red Alert felt himself grow unbearably tense as he drew close to the end of the hall, further on to inevitably meet the source of the footsteps and the possible mastermind behind this bedlam. His cabling squeezed all around his infrastructure as his hand gripped his gun in a crushing death grip. The junction was clearly within sight of his optics, and the sound of the intruder suddenly becoming thunderous to his audios.

Soon he was at the very corner of the hall, the moment of truth upon him. With a harsh cry he sprang forth, weapon leveled and half feral as combat was upon him.

A startled yell, and a hand wrapped around his gun-bearing arm's wrist, slamming it into a wall as another powerful hand wrapped about his neck, lifting him up. Thinking this was the end, Red Alert forced his optics to glare at his would be killer…and got the shock of his life.

"SPIKE!?"

"RED ALERT!?"

The massive former human stared up at Red Alert with open mouthed shock as his mind tried to process what was going on here. Spike let go of Red Alert and took a step back, while Red Alert rubbed the spot where Spike had grabbed him, the both of them staring at each other as they calmed down. It was Spike who spoke first.

"Mother of God, what are you doing here?" He sounded completely mystified that there was someone other then himself free. To the young mech's question, Red Alert gave a snort.

"I'm here because whatever has been doing this has seen fit to allow me out of my office. I can only guess at why… What have you seen so far?" he asked with a raised optic ridge, the soldier in him desiring additional tactical information of any sort.

Spike 'rolled' his optics. "Same as on your end; widespread chaos and the ship coming alive and attacking the crew, like something out of a friggen' horror film…"

Red Alert put a hand to his chin and made a soft contemplative noise. "Have you any idea what might be doing this? I at first suspected this to be the work of the Decepticons, but-"

"It ain't the 'Cons. I know exactly who and what is doing this." Spike said grimly, his optics narrowing at the thought of the _thing_ causing all of this. Red Alert's optics widened at the revelation.

"You do? Well, spit it out! Who's doing all this?"

"X. X is the one behind all of this." Red Alert's brow ridges quirked up as he gave the larger Autobot a cockeyed glance, finding his tale… somewhat hard to believe. While he knew of the foul personality that had developed in Spike's body prior to his transferal, he hadn't entirely believed it.

"Are you… sure of this, Spike?" The triple charger nodded vigorously.

"Dead sure. When I was getting my body reformatted, I somehow encountered it in my head while I was unconscious… this noise we're hearing, it was precisely what I heard during that time and before when my mind wasn't there entirely. And…and it spoke to me, through the comms. It called me 'brother'… if it isn't X, then what in God's name could it be?"

Red Alert did not like it, but it made more sense then anything he could think of at the moment. "Point taken, Spike… what did it say, exactly?"

"That it wanted to… play." Spike grimaced, not relishing whatever his pseudo-sibling's idea of "play" could be. "So far I've been traveling down the hall, following the lights," he pointed to the dim lights above head that formed a barely noticeable line down the hall, before he then gazed down at Red Alert curiously. "I have a fairly good idea as to why psycho-sib let ME go…but why you?"

"I have very little idea why, Spike," Red Alert said tiredly. "Perhaps it would serve us both best if we just play along with your… sibling until we are able to properly ascertain the full scope of its logic."

"Sounds good to me," Spike shrugged and then started to move towards the main hall. "Let's move."

Red Alert sighed heavily as he followed the large mech down the dim corridor. The base was under the control of a deranged phantom personality, all the others were trapped, and right now his only help was a halfway insane, converted organic whose intentions he was STILL not sure of. Why, oh why did the universe hate him?

It seemed like an eternity, that they spent traveling deeper into the base, an uncomfortable silence descending upon the two. However, Red Alert's optics widened in recognition as they came before a somewhat neglected-looking door. "Wait a moment, I know where he's leading us!" he said suddenly. Spike turned his head to look down at his paranoid companion, both amazed and disbelieving.

"You do?"

"Yes! This is the spare parts locker! It's where Sparkplug got the parts for Autobot X…" Red Alert seemed almost mystified. Rare was the injury that required the usage of spare parts, and thus was it that this particular part of the Ark was not often traveled. Spike looked at the door with an edgy glint in his optics.

"The lights lead right into it… do you think he's in there?" Spike felt something similar to queasiness in the depths of his energon processor at the thought of meeting his 'sibling' in the 'flesh'… or just meeting X at all. Red Alert, however, suffered none of this and simply nodded grimly.

"There is a fair chance of that, Spike," Red Alert nodded, glaring intently at the door. Spike almost felt himself shudder, he wasn't sure if he could do this. However, there was something more powerful than fear of X lurking at his mind. His friends being hurt by X was a hell of a lot scarier then X itself, and that was enough to shove his personal terror aside. So his face set into a kind of determined glare as he gazed at the door.

"Okay then. How to go through with this? I'm not really seeing any way other then the direct approach. What about you, Red?"

"It doesn't seem that we have much choice in the matter, Spike. We'll just have to get in and pray that we're not dead by the time we set foot inside," Red Alert said grimly. One of his least favorite situations was going into the unknown, without plans or preparations or back up plans.

Spike narrowed his optics at the door.

"I'll go first. It started between me and X and it'll END between me and X," he said with an air of finality as he headed to the door. Red Alert apparently had few objections with this arrangement, and followed behind the large triple charger, every sense on high alert.

The door opened before them, and they stepped into the dimly lit room.

Immediately it was obvious something was wrong with the room, so much so that Red Alert could not suppress a gasp even as the door behind them slammed shut. "By Primus, it's… it's…"

"Empty…" Spike finished as he gazed out at the site before him, not quite believing what he was seeing. He'd only been in this room a few times before, but he remembered those times quite clearly. This room had many things in it; bins filled with junked parts, multiple computers to catalogue and analyze all the parts, racks with fresh replacement parts, even a repair chamber for easy application of the spares. But now, all of that had been….

Swept aside, for lack of a better phrase. It was all gone, all of it. The racks, the computers, the bins; all of them had been removed, and the room itself now looked totally barren. A very unnatural thing for the Ark, and it unnerved Spike. Just how had X managed to get rid of ALL that stuff without anyone noticing? Spike stepped forward cautiously, followed by Red Alert, both of them looking in all directions at once for signs of X.

"Greetings, brother."

At the sound of that hauntingly disturbing voice, the two mechs' heads swung around to look at the far end of the room, where they could see… a figure, sitting. It was a large figure, obviously a Cybertronnian of some sort, but, other than that, it was somewhat difficult to ascertain…

The two gave a startled yell as the lights flashed back to full power, causing their optical receptors to blur slightly in the attempt to adjust to the sudden brightness. Once that happened, they were able to behold the figure in all his terrible glory.

He was a large mech. It was difficult to tell exactly how large given that he was sitting down, but still he seemed fairly well sized. His armor was heavy, and his coloration consisted of a swampy deep green for most part while his arms and legs were painted pitch black. The head had an undecorated helm. Half of his face was covered with a battle mask and the optics… the optics were narrow, piercing, a glaring sickly green color that stared right into Spike's soul. Metal spikes and barbs were prominent on this mech, especially around the shoulders and forearms. His hands, which were currently locked together in a kind of waiting grasp, had fingers which ended with cruel looking talons that seemed like they could split metal with but a touch. It was impossible to tell what vehicle mode this mech could possess, if indeed he HAD one… but none of this was what shocked the Autobot duo, ooh no. It was what was coming out of the BACK of the mech; wires, tubes, cords, and all other manner of techno-wizardry was coming out of the mech's upper back, leading up into the ceiling and merging him with the rest of the ship. The mech's optics flashed green, and, although the mask obscured it, a smile could be seen in his optics.

A wide grin that carried no warmth…

Spike stared, completely slackjawed at the physical sight of X. He was not prepared for this. How had he fooled himself into thinking he could been? It was unnerving in the extreme, and he felt his knee joints get weak and his head grow light. It was all so unreal… despite the earlier bravado, he could not have predicted just how much actually seeing his twisted "sibling" in the "flesh" would disturb him right down to his core. Red Alert, on the other hand, had no such problems. A defiant glint came to his optics as he stepped in front of Spike to send a piercing glare right at X.

"All right, whoever you are, enough is enough. I give you this one chance to surrender peacefully, and you will not be harmed."

X just let out a cackle, and sneered at the Autobot security chief. Without saying a word, the ceiling paneling just above the duo opened, and two tendrils of wiring shot down. One slapped Red Alert's gun from his hand faster then he could react while the second reached around his shoulder-mounted rocket and tore it from its mooring. Red Alert squawked in shock and pain. Spike stared in horror as he saw first hand just HOW the maniac was holding his friends captive. Growling, it was now Spike's turn to step forward and defy his "sibling".

"You…" he growled out, "What do you want from us!? Why did you let us go and lead us right down here? Speak to me you sick, twisted, slag brained waste of space!" Aggression and fear long buried was starting to rise up like bile in Spike's vocal assembly, and he simply could not hide his agitation.

"Why, dearest sibling, haven't you figured it out yet?" X said coyly, in a tone that many a parent used to explain things to very young children. "I want to KNOW, brother mine. I want to know why everyone seems to think you have a greater right to live then I do."

THAT threw both Red Alert and Spike for a loop. Red Alert stared in disbelief. His mouth opened and he tried to speak, but his vocalizer seemed unable to make words come out. Taking their shocked silence as a cue, X stood up and casually, slowly made his way towards them, talking all the time. "Heh, shocks you does it? But it's true; for some reason, everyone seems to think Spikey-boy here has all the right to live, whereas I'm… well, I'm just a donor, aren't I? I've seen broadcasts through Ark's systems from all over the earth; I'm like those children belonging to couples that only had another child just in case the older one needed a kidney or liver or whatever other body part was going to fail."

Spike was so horrified and shocked by the words he could not help but protest. "That's insane…YOU'RE insane! You weren't created on purpose; your mind exists only by accident! The only reason you're even sentient is because you leeched off of my own mind!" he angrily spat at the twisted mech who now stood perilously close. "You forget that I saw what you know, felt what you feel…and you don't feel _anything._ You don't see anything outside of yourself as mattering…" Then something occurred to Spike, and he frowned deeply. "How is it that you're even still alive? Wheeljack-"

"Failed utterly," X said nonchalantly. "When he tried to erase me, he gave me the means to escape the confines of that disk and into the Ark's systems. I've been in here ever sense, learning, growing, waiting for a time to make myself known. I've become connected in a way none of you can begin to imagine; I see what the Ark sees and control what it can control! The Ark and its facilities are MINE to command, to control!!" Red Alert looked completely flabbergasted by what he'd just been told; it was like every security nightmare he'd ever cooked up coming true right before him. Just how much DID X know…?

Noting the look on their faces, X's grin grew wider underneath his faceplate. "Oooh yes. No one suspected a thing. So much so that I was even able to construct my body in secret. True it might have been easier, nay, smarter to have killed you all while I was without a real tether to the material world. Without you even knowing what was hitting you…but what fun would THAT be?"

"You talk about killing so easily," Spike said dangerously. "And yet you feel as if you have a greater right to live then all others?"

"I call it 'survival', Spike. It's the core drive of all living things, is it not?" X shot back. "Besides, I DO deserve to live more than you, if only because I have proven my greater will to live and willingness to survive makes me YOUR superior, brother!" X snarled and started to…hover? No, he wasn't hovering; the wires were raising him into the air and pulling him back, suspending him from the ceiling and creating an illusion of being airborne.

"You've been watching far too many security recordings of the Decepticons if you think this will accomplish anything!" Red Alert bellowed out angrily at X, glaring right up at him.

"Oh, but it WILL accomplish something, something VERY dear to me!" X proclaimed wildly. "I will prove that I'm better. That I'm superior. And I'll do it in front of the man that started it all!"

Spike felt something akin to his blood freezing, even if he didn't have any blood nowadays. "What?" he said in a hushed, terrified voice. _No, oh please don't let him mean…_

"You heard me, bro! Let's get the final word from dear old dad!" X cackled, and from where the vents were located a panel opened up, and the tendrils moved down once more with something in their grasp; it was a makeshift cage, and inside was none other then…

"DAD!!!" Spike cried out in absolute panic at the sight of his father in the grasp of the maniac X.

"Looky who I found crawling around the ventilation shafts!" X cackled in gleeful dementia. "Though why on earth he thought that he could escape me when the rest of your putrid friends didn't, I'll never know… madness must run in the family, heh."

"You cowardly scum! Leave him out of this!" The security chief called out, not keeping his disgust at X's taking of a human hostage hidden from the unbalanced thing.

"No dice, sport!" X chortled while Sparkplug looked around in confusion and apprehension.

"Son? Son, what's going on here? Who is this? Are you all right?" he called down from his cage as his mind tried to piece together what was going on.

"Funny how you only address HIM as son, Dad," X said bitterly as the cage drew close to his head level, enabling him to glare directly at his unknowing progenitor.

"What? What are you talking about? I've never see you before in my life!" Sparkplug protested, giving the mad mech before him an incredulous glare.

"Oh, but you HAVE, daddy dearest!" X snarled. "I'm what lived in that body you made BEFORE you forced your precious firstborn into it!"

Sparkplug stared dumbly for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization, then narrowed in rage. "YOU! You're what caused Spike to act crazy when he first changed! You tried to get rid of him when the body was being reformatted!" he accused. X narrowed his own optics right back.

"Given how he was an intruder in MY body, I feel fully justified in my actions." X sniffed disdainfully, but Sparkplug would have none of it.

"Don't pull that crap on me! I know precisely what you are and what you became AFTER my son was put inside of you!" While Sparkplug and his wayward "son" argued, Red Alert saw his chance open up to make a grab for his gun, while Spike watched on in grim fascination the banter between his father and the psychopathic creature claiming kinship. However, when Red Alert was _just_ about to reach his gun, panels on the walls opened up and weapons extended - the internal security lasers that were located everywhere on the ship, and every one in this room was now pointed at him. He froze in place, not so much as daring to move in case the deadly things took that as the cue to slice him into pieces. Spike felt his spark hitch at this revelation of power, but in retrospect he figured he should have realized that if X would have control of the weapons in addition to every other single thing in the entire Ark.

"Nice try, Red Alert," chuckled X mirthlessly before he returned his attentions to Sparkplug. "You know, I SHOULD just kill you, oh deadbeat maker…" Spike felt his spark hitch in his chest. "But I won't," concluded X, causing both Red Alert and Spike to sigh in relief. "That is…" X then added sinisterly, "If Spike listens to a little tale I have to tell and makes the right choice afterwards. Whatcha say, bro?" Suddenly X's face was looking down at Spike's, a dark grin behind the faceplate.

"Like I really got a choice?" Spike said bitterly, Red Alert's own expression matching Spike's. Both were keenly aware that X was in control here; if the insane mechanism wanted to kill them he could easily do so on a whim. Instead he chose to play with them, like a cat with its prey… no, no that was too noble a thing to describe with X. It was more like a child that had some poor ants at its mercy.

"Well, not really, but it felt right to ask." X admitted cheerfully, while Sparkplug sat back with a foul look on his face. "Tell me Spike, were you ever curious about what was said during the meeting Command had after your little episode with Megatron?" X suddenly asked, and Red Alert felt his fluids run cold. Dear Primus below, surely he did not mean to inform Spike about _that?_

Spike, in the meantime, raised an optic ridge and responded warily. "I might have…but what has that got to do with anything?"

"Oh, it'll make sense soon enough, I promise you that," X said casually. "You see, Red Alert here was the one to argue that you SHOULDN'T be allowed to join in missions after the escapade with Megatron, on the grounds that you were too unstable to safely conduct missions with the regular troops." Spike frowned; this was not news to him. However, what he failed to notice was that Red Alert was growing steadily more and more nervous. Before Spike could inquire as to why he should even care about this detail, X continued. "Do you know what he suggested, for the safety of the Ark's crew?" X asked in a mockingly sweet tone, while Red Alert's expression warped into a full on panic. Before Spike could answer, X did it for him. "He was for having you reprogrammed!"

The news hit Spike like a Dinobot's tail to the face. "W-what?" he asked disbelievingly, shooting a look over at Red Alert, whose expression and overall demeanor immediately verified the sick-minded mech's revelation. Sparkplug, too, stared open-mouthed at Red Alert, scarcely believing what he had heard.

X continued on. "Now, you and dad might not realize the full implications of the process and what it might do, so let me fill you in on some details. Reprogramming or 'debugging' a Cybertronnian mind to alter key points such as personality is an incredibly risky procedure that would require Spike be fed a constant stream of tranquilizing cartridges while Ratchet or a similar professional made the appropriate alterations to his brain. Of course, given the insane amounts of risk involved with altering the core processor of a mech, Spike could just as easily ended up a vegetable for the rest of his life… but Red Alert was perfectly willing to take that risk." X had added that last part in with a nasty smile, while Spike's stunned expression grew steadily more and more dumbfounded.

"You…you were gonna have me lobotomized…?" Spike felt dizzy, sick to his energon processor. He realized that Red Alert had been somewhat concerned about what his presence might do on the Ark, but he never in a million years dreamed that the security director would have allowed it to come to that? Spike suddenly felt whatever inkling of respect he held for the paranoid Autobot evaporate in an instant.

Sparkplug chose a more vocal route. "You lunatic! You were gonna have my boy brainwashed into being something he ain't!? What the hell is that matter with you?!" He ranted at the helpless looking Red Alert, whose face bore a strange look of resignation and shame.

"I… I had to consider the safety of the crew," he said weakly to the two, Spike's expression darkening at his words. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few… I did not think I could risk your rage turning against the other bots, so I felt that this would be the best course ultimately; wiping out your rage… I'm sorry Spike, but I had to think of the others…" Red Alert sighed, wondering what the use was; the damage was done, and his sole ally in this mess now probably wanted his head on a platter. X in the meantime soaked up the turmoil like a sponge and cackled wickedly.

"Oh, as much as I hate to detract from this delicious little melodrama, there is another matter at hand. The choice I mentioned, Spike?" X asked mockingly, not giving the still glaring Autobot a chance to even answer. "Of course you do. Well its really quite simple, Spikey-boy. I'm willing to let Dad go free… provided that you do something for me."

Spike looked up at X, his expression incredulous, as was Sparkplug's. "You'd let dad go?"

"Don't listen to him, it's gotta be a trick…" Sparkplug warned, to which X shook his head.

"Oh, its no trick, I assure you. You do this one little thing for me, and he will be free as a bird," X stated, and his tendrils began to shift and the elder human's cage was lowered to the ground, to a spot right in the middle of the gap that separated X and the Autobots. "All I need to do at this point is just open up, and he'd be free… provided you do that little favor."

Spike looked down at the cage, then up at X. "What would you have me do…?" he asked cautiously. Red Alert's optics widened in disbelief at what he was seeing; Spike was actually going to do the bidding of that maniac?

"Easy," X stated casually. "Kill Red Alert."

The degrees in the room seemed to lower several degrees as both Red Alert and Sparkplug stared in absolute shock at what X was asking.

"Kill… kill Red Alert?" Spike asked uncertainly. "But why?"

"I want to see if you'd do it; if you'd kill another Autobot if it meant saving the life of our father. I want to know just how far you are willing to go when it comes to saving the lives of those who mean most. So I made sure that Red Alert was able to escape alongside with you, so that this moment could come," X explained with a satanic gleam in his optics. "What will it be? Our father or an Autobot who would have had you destroyed from within just to ensure that others would be safe from you?" He chuckled darkly. "You really should thank me. If I really wanted to make you suffer, I'd make you choose between Dad and that little, yellow idiot you bunk with." A twisted amusement danced in his optics as his voice took on a mock-compassionate tone. "'Though I suppose finding out just how much you scare your friends is almost as bad. Well, Spike? What's your choice?"

Spike looked up at X without emotion. "If I do this…you will let dad go?" he asked, seeking confirmation, to which Sparkplug gasped in shock.

"Son, what are you doing?!"

"The instant his body hits the floor, our father will be free," X nodded, and then his optics narrowed in anticipation. "And then the REAL games can begin between us, brother dear."

Spike ignored the repeated protests of his father as he simply nodded and turned to face Red Alert, whose prior stunned expression hardened into a tense stare, the face of a mech who knew his life was on the line but had to remain cool. Spike wordlessly raised his arm, his weapon placement charging up with a whine. "Spike…" Red Alert said diplomatically, raising his hands. "Spike, think of what you're doing… there is no guarantee that he'll keep his end of the bargain…"

Spike's optics narrowed as he pressed his hand further towards Red Alert's head forcing him back. X looked on in wicked anticipation as Sparkplug screamed for his son to stop, to no avail. Red Alert took a step back and continued to speak. "I realize that I acted in haste, and that what I said and suggested can never be taken back, but please… please think about what you are about to do." Spike's expression did not change, and by now X's entire world seemed consist of watching as his 'sibling' taking the life of a fellow Autobot. Red Alert for his part felt an air of futility surround him, so he shuttered his optics and sighed before staring right into the optics of his would-be killer. If he was to die, he would not die afraid.

Time seemed to hold still for a moment…

And then Spike smirked. Red Alert didn't even have time to register his shock before Spike gave out a battle cry and twirled to face X, his charged up arm cannon firing a searing beam of energy right into the midsection of the stunned psychotic, who shrieked in agony. The sound and smell of melting metals and burning circuits soon overwhelmed all senses. "SAVE MY DAD! I'LL DEAL WITH X!!" Spike bellowed as he blasted repeatedly into the startlingly sturdy form of X, who was having difficulty collecting his wits from the sudden assault. Red Alert did not need to be told twice; quick as a flash the security director dove for the makeshift cage, separating it from its tendril with a well placed slice of his hand before cradling it in his arms protectively as he charged for the door.

X let out an animalistic shriek as his optics blazed with unfettered hatred, which Spike matched when he ceased fire and charged directly at his crazed pseudo sibling, rage coursing through all his circuitry and wiring as he slammed his fists into X's armor. The room's weapon-bearing tendrils lashed about and fired in all directions, searing Red Alert's shoulder as he exited the room. Though he hissed in pain, he was able to get Sparkplug out without injuring him. Setting the cage down he carefully tore the top off, freeing Sparkplug and allowing him to turn his attentions back to the room, where Spike and X were engaged in an animalistic close quarter melee.

Other people ceased to exist as a concept for Spike; as of now it was just him and X - him and the psychotic creature who claimed to be his sibling. With each crushing blow that flattened a segment of X's armor, X returned with vicious claw rakes that tore and shredded Spike's own armor with horrible ease. The tendrils with weapons fired on Spike's body when they could, but even as his armor was burned and flayed away by the piercing energy he kept at it, hammering and smashing at the other mech without ceasing. However X was hardly the only one dealing damage; with feral snarls and wild shrieks he slashed and tore at Spike's form, pulling entire chunks of armor from Spike's frame. "YOU THINK YOU CAN BEST ME, SPIKE!? YOU'RE JUST A CHILD. AN UNBALANCED TEENAGER WITH TOO MUCH POWER! YOU'RE NOTHING, YOU'RE WEAK!!!" X ranted hysterically as tendrils wrapped around the both of them and wrenched them up off the floor, trying and failing to pry the crazed Spike off their controller.

"BEATS THE HELL OUT OF WHAT YOU ARE, YOU MISTAKE!!" Spike roared back, ignoring the systems warnings that flashed across his optics. It was like the fight with Megatron all over again, and Spike had no intentions of letting the psychopathic monster who had dared to endanger his friends and family escape this alive, not in his current state of mind anyway. As an unexpected bonus to Spike's fight, X's concentration across the Ark was now spread too thin for him to maintain outside the room; the impact doors began to open and the tendrils holding the others hostage began to go limp in their grip, and soon enough the others were liberating themselves across the ship. Spike did not know this, and he probably wouldn't have cared. All that mattered to him now, was killing the enemy.

He snarled in hatred when X's claw sliced down across his face, putting out and optic, and Spike retaliated by activating his foot jets and holding onto X. The boosters blazing, Spike was able to push X with enough force that the tendrils attached to his back and the ones holding Spike himself aloft snapped and tore, sending the both of them to the far side of the room. X cried out in pain and denial as his 'lifeline' to the Ark was severed. Spike felt himself grinning ferally in response as he braced X up against his front, and with a sickening crunching noise smashed him against the wall, leaving a huge dent in it after they fell to the floor. Still it did not end there; while X was disoriented, Spike managed to straddle his chest while keeping his arms locked away with his legs. With X at his mercy like this, Spike just snarled and started punching away at X's head, over and over and over, until… until…

Spike felt like he should be panting, once his barrage ceased. He stood up, energon and other fluids dripping from his stained hands as he stumbled away from the now headless body of X. He turned around and stumbled away, his blurry and staticy optic catching sight of both Sparkplug and Red Alert, who stared at him from the doorway, mouths open. Soon, both of them were running towards him, Red Alert hoisting Spike's arm over his shoulder in an effort to keep him steady while Sparkplug gazed up almost frantic with concern.

"SPIKE! Aw, Spike, you knucklehead! What'd you do to yourself?" he asked as he looked over his injured son's body. "Red Alert called reinforcements. There was no need to do this!"

"Had to…had to stop him… make him pay for doing this… for doing all.. all of this…" Spike coughed suddenly, energon spraying up from his mouth and staining the floor in front of him.

"Hush now, Spike. Ratchet is on his way, you've done enough for today. You saved us, Spike. You saved all of us." Red Alert said gently, a tone of guilt hanging in his voice. Spike looked up at him and then at the room behind them.

"He…he won't come back….will he?" he murmured, his good optic started to flicker.

"Son, ya mashed his head into mulch; there ain't no way he's coming back from that," Sparkplug said as he walked beside the two, not taking his eyes of his son.

"Good…" Spike murmured, though he did not sound pleased or even like he was capable of much emotion at all at this point. And then he allowed the damage to catch up with him and fell slack against Red Alert, yells of shock and terror drowning out as his vision blurred and faded.

And then his world became darkness.


	15. Damage Control

**Note: **Sooo freakin' sorry this one took so long, it really is inexcusable. However, I stand by what I've been saying with this fic; it'll never die, not until it is completed. It may take a while between updates, but I promise it shan't die.

**Chrysalis**

**Chapter Fifteen: **Damage Control

Megatron sat in his chair - the one in the command room that only HE could sit in. The room was dimly lit, casting warped shadows as the massive, ashen beast of metal that was Megatron sat hunched over with only his thoughts for company. Megatron frowned to himself. Brooding was not usual for him. He was a mech of action who fed off emotion and conflict. He wasn't the sort to just… sit about. Yet here he was, he mused, sitting alone in the near dark and stewing in his thoughts not unlike that morbid twit Dirge. Lately he had been… concerned about certain matters.

Ever since his battle with that _freak_.

The frown on his face deepened, and his optics blazed slightly at the memory. He had nearly died at the hands of some emotionally unstable, organic fledgling. He, a warlord with countless vorns of experience, and he'd nearly been defeated by a mistake of fate. If the Cybertronian race had a single, organic form, then Spike would be a tumor blighting it; a distorted mass of corruption that had no place in the body of its species. Megatron mused that, had this been just some regular, Autobot punk, it would not have posed THAT much of a problem. Humiliation at the hands of an Autobot could be dealt with eventually. After all in this war you were bound to pick up a couple of dents along the way. But Spike… he wasn't an Autobot, not a real one anyway. His near-victory over Megatron was far more damaging then even his troops could know.

His troops…

He could see it in their optics, he knew he could. That barely-there hint of disdain and judgment. That carefully-hidden contempt that he KNEW they were feeling. It didn't matter how often he terrorized them or asserted his authority and strength, it was still there… it was as if Starscream's blatant treachery had infected the rest of the crew in ways far more insidious. Only a few were spared, namely Soundwave and Skywarp (who'd been uncharacteristically sullen ever since his utter humiliation and mutilation at the hands of the abomination). The rest though… they thought him weak, to be nearly killed by what had once been a mere human. Starscream's poisonous words did not help matters much; with all the ammo the incident had provided him, it would seem that the crew was now giving _serious_ thought to the Air Commander's rather vocal insistence that _he _was a better choice of leadership.

This, however, did not worry Megatron. Not as much other implications that arose from that day. Megatron had for his entire existence based his philosophy on the supremacy of mechanical life over organic life. That, even if given an equal footing, organics would inevitably fail before Cybertronnian life in all ways possible. The perfection of machine life in comparison with organics was one of the central tenants of the Decepticon worldview. But, now this long held view had been challenged…and it threw everything into doubt. Should the news spread back home, it could prove disastrous. It could plant the seeds of doubt into more weak-willed, open-minded members of the Decepticon faction and, if left unchecked, undermine the united (at least against the outside) front of his army, thus spelling ruin for his ambitions and all his hard work. He had to nip this problem in the bud before it caused him any undue stress back home.

_But how to accomplish that?_ mused the old tyrant as he set a hand to his chin and let out a low murmur of inquiry. He needed something, something that would end in Spike's death and hopefully restore his credibility. Something to remove doubt…or, failing that, distract his mechs from the doubts until they faded to insignificance. But what? What could he do…?

The cogs in his mind, both metaphorical and literal, began turning as one thought led to another, then another, and another. Slowly but surely, he began to sit up straight, and then a most hideous smile graced his ancient features.

He had a plan.

* * *

"Why the slag do we have to be at the forefront of all this?" Brawn groused as he carried away the metal wall plate while other minibots sifted through the wiring contained within, inspecting them for any unfortunate surprises that may have been left by the lunatic _thing_ that had taken control of the ship a scant day ago.

"'Cause, for one thing, we're small enough to get into the real nitty-gritty of it all, Brawn," Windcharger explained while casually shunting aside his own portion of metal plating using his magnetic-fields. "I mean it's not like the Dinobots are gonna be able to pick through all this junk and get those damn bugs out with any precision, now are they?"

"Easy there, Sludge. Easy!" As if by magic, Windcharger's point was proven when the frantic call of Wheeljack came as he directed Sludge (whose rather infamous clumsiness was not doing the nerves of the somewhat scatterbrained scientist any favors) in stacking the wall plates further down the corridor.

Brawn just grumbled to himself as he continued his work. After the disaster involving X, the Ark had been practically turned inside-out in the effort to "decontaminate" the various inter-structural cables and wires which had been laced with the nanobots that had endowed X his seemingly supernatural ability to control the very ship itself. This group consisted not only of Brawn and Windcharger, but also a rather distracted Bumblebee, who was at this moment dazedly sifting through the conduits and not paying any real attention to his work as other thoughts occupied his mind.

To the yellow Bug, it just seemed unending… it was if whatever force that controlled the universe and all within it had decided that Spike was to be the butt of a cosmic joke, and not a funny one at that. Ever since the reformation, ever since the TRANSFORMATION, it seemed like every time one problem was dealt with another, much bigger problem came along to gum up the works! Bumblebee resented it, and he was more than a little irritated that he couldn't check up on Spike, languishing in the medbay for the second time in but a few weeks. Ratchet certainly wasn't about to become a fan of his, that was for certain.

_Come off it 'Bee, you're just being a worry wart_, he scolded himself as his nimble, little fingers absently picked away at clump of nanobots, setting them into a scattered pile next to him. _You've gone through all this earlier, haven't you? I mean, you thought the worst when Spike got out of that fight with Megatron, and he turned out fine didn't he?_

But Bumblebee's failure to cheer himself up only caused him to vanish deeper into his own somewhat depressing little world. An outside observer would easily compare his mood to that of the perpetually unhappy Huffer or the hypochondriac Gears, and, to be quite frank, in his current state he would not dispute such a comparison. He was so wrapped up in his worries about Spike that he hadn't noticed that someone was calling out to him, not until…

"BEE!" A hand gripped at his shoulder.

"Aiiiighg!!" shrieked the tiny saboteur as he jerked in panic, pinning himself against the wall to face… a rather confused-looking Windcharger.

"Good grief, 'Bee, what's up with you? You're wound up tighter than Red Alert usually is," Windcharger cocked his head to the side, looking at the strung-out Mini with more than a hint of worry. With a sigh, Bumblebee forced himself into a calmer state as he tried to explain himself.

"Sorry 'Charger, I'm just… distracted, is all…"

"Lemme guess; Spike?" Windcharger smirked knowingly, to which Bumblebee smiled, softly and sheepishly.

"Is it that obvious?"

"All of your PAST emotional upheavals this year seem to focus around his state of being, so yeah, it's kinda obvious," Windcharger shrugged, sarcasm thick in his voice before his overall demeanor changed to a more sympathetic state. "Ease up, 'Bee. Ratchet'll repair him good as new, you'll see. I mean, we all thought it might be the end of him after that showdown he had with Megatron, didn't we?"

"Yeah, you're right… still, this whole thing is just nerve wracking," Bumblebee sighed before smiling back at Windcharger. "You're right, Ratchet WILL fix him." Then, the Bug looked around curiously. "Incidentally, how much more of this do you think we have to go through before we're finally done?"

"More than enough," grouched Brawn, who was busy moving materials. "And am I the only one who remembers how to work here?! C'mon you two, let's see some hustle!" To emphasize his point, the pint-sized titan tossed his current load of scrap into the cart with a resounding clang. Not needing to be told twice, his fellow mini-bots split up to resume their own parts in the cleanup. And while the minis worked on their part of the mess, Wheeljack worked on his with Sludge, entertaining himself through one-sided conversations with the somewhat dim Dinobot. At this particular moment, Wheeljack was swooning over something caught between his forefinger and thumb; a teeny tiny nanite, one of the many scraped from the insides of the ship's wiring.

"Beautiful, isn't it Sludge?" Wheeljack said in an airy, almost loving voice as he displayed the minute machine to the large Dinobot, who simply gazed upon it with a marked amount of confusion (more so than usual for Sludge).

"Uuuh…what beautiful?" the big mech asked in puzzlement as he tried to get a look at the minute thing between his co-creator's fingers.

"This! THIS is a beautiful work of craftsmanship and ingenuity here in my hand," Wheeljack explained excitedly, while Sludge decided to simply let the inventor yammer on to his spark's content. It would be much less painful for his head that way. "The possibilities of these things are practically endless! To think that it could come from such a diseased mind - wait." The inventor suddenly narrowed his optics as his vision focused on the intricate circuitry and design of the tiny drone, and then they widened in anger. "Why that son of a GLITCH!" he roared, causing Sludge to jump in surprise. "He stole this design from me! Why that slimy…! No," Wheeljack said suddenly, forcing himself to calm. "No, I won't let the glitch get my goat. Nooo, I'm just gonna keep moving forward with this!" he declared firmly, turning around and tossing the nanite into the trash pile Sludge was getting ready to haul away. "Speaking of which, we better get moving. Still plenty to clean up here, eh Sludge?" With that, he started to head to another section that had been yet to be decontaminated.

Sludge, finally realizing that Wheeljack was moving tried to catch up. Unfortunately, in his hurry to join his fellow 'bot, he ended up doing something that was dangerous for any and all involved.

He lost his footing, and began to sway around as he tried to regain it. "Whoa..whooa…" he rumbled out, prompting Wheeljack to turn around in curiosity… and then yelp in alarm.

"Ack! Sludge! Easy there, big fella, easy…!" he raised his hands protectively. By some stroke of bad luck, Sludge's stumbling had him pinned in a corner and he hoped to Primus that he would be outside the range of the massive Dinobot's body. To his dismay and horror, Sludge continued to lurch and wobble about.

"Sludge gonna fall!"

"No, Sludge, you won't fall! Falling is bad, VERY bad! Just find your balance- OH NO! NO!!"

Suddenly there was a crash, a feeling of the base rumbling, and the sound of metal impacting on metal. The minibots scrambled to the scene, and, upon arriving, began to wince in sympathy as they saw Wheeljack writhing desperately under the immense metal bulk that was Sludge and the only slightly less immense mass of scrap the Dinobot had been carrying. Sludge himself, had only one thing to say.

"Oops…"

* * *

Many hours after the cleanup was complete, a soul began to stir within the Ark's medical bay.

_Hello HUD, my old friend, _Spike thought absurdly to himself as he began to regain his consciousness, his vision greeted by the now familiar sight of the statistics and readouts that would assail his vision every morning after recharge, but before his optic sensors came online. Spike was actually quite thankful to see the readouts on his Head Up Display this time. After what had happened God knew how long ago with X, it was comforting to know that he was still alive. He shivered as the battle against X raced in his mind, the memories flashing before him like some horrid kind of slideshow. He remembered everything - from X's taunting speech and the revelations of what Red Alert had wanted to do with him, to the desperate, close-in fight and the bloody carnage they had wrecked upon each other, to the terror of having a hostage made from his…

"….Dad?" he spoke out in a quiet voice, barely audible. But his audials picked up a rather different response from what he was expecting.

"Aw, slaggit," growled Ratchet, and, upon hearing THOSE dreaded words, Spike's optics came online in a miniature blaze of blue. "He's conscious too soon. Slagging faulty knockout cartridges."

Spike did not need to look around to know where he was; the medical bay was very much synonymous with the sound of Ratchet uttering the word "slag". "Wha… Dad?" Spike murmured out as he tried to sit up, looking around for the sight of his father, only to be shoved back down on the medical berth, his audials assaulted by Ratchet's exasperated roar.

"For the love of Primus, don't move! I haven't completed repairs yet!"

"Better do as the Doc says, Son. Don't want you losing something vital, now do we?" came the familiar (but slightly forced) chuckle of Sparkplug Witwicky. Spike turned his head and smiled, seeing not only his father sitting on the ledge of a table, but Bumblebee with him and looking very relieved.

"Hey, Dad. Hey, 'Bee," Spike said tiredly, a smile on his face. "How's it hangin'?"

"You mean aside from you, once again, scaring us silly?" Bumblebee wryly responded with crossed arms and a raised eye-ridge, prompting a chuckle from Spike.

"Yeah, aside from that," Spike chuckled. Sparkplug's own face took on a serious countenance, his voice speaking of the deep relief he felt.

"Well, Son, you've been out for quite some time. Ratchet's been working nonstop ever since you got in here. That nutcase sliced you up something awful, but Ratchet's nearly done with you." Then the man's voice and demeanor lightened some. "Second time in a few weeks you've been on this berth. Makes me think you're developing some kind of fetish for it."

"Oh, that's a pleasant thought…" Spike groaned, "Seriously though, is this gonna become a recurring element of my life as an Autobot?"

"I dunno. Maybe you're cursed?" Bumblebee shrugged.

"Funny, 'Bee. VERY funny," Spike groused sarcastically. "I already thought about that one, thank you very much," he huffed, but smiled to assure the small, yellow 'bot that he was just joking. Bumblebee for his part just chuckled and set a hand to the massive mech's shoulder.

"Seriously though, Spike, it's good to see you're pulling through," Bumblebee explained with a soft, relieved smile. Spike appreciated the gesture, however, while he physically may have felt fine (or what passed for "fine" in his current body), mentally he was still somewhat on the edge. The memory of what X had told him - of what Red Alert had suggested be done to him… he shivered slightly, he couldn't help it. It didn't help that the mech repairing him would have been the one to… to…

Before Spike could finish contemplating that horrific thought, a voice rang out from the entrance of the bay - a voice practically dreaded by the master of that particular domain.

"Heya, folks! What's shakin?" The grinning form of Sideswipe was soon making it's way towards Spike, prompting everyone present to focus their attentions on the vermillion warrior as he strolled on through.

"JUST WHAT IN THE PIT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?!" Ratchet bellowed, standing tall as he glowered at the precocious mech. Sideswipe simply chuckled.

"Oh, work's over, so I figured I'd just swing on by to see how 'Mister Popular' here was doing," he explained smoothly as he managed to slink his way around the irate medic and to the side of Spike's berth. "Congrats, kiddo, you've just earned a spot on Ratchet's slag list twice in a single month!" His grin widened some, and Ratchet just groaned.

"Oh joy," Spike stated flatly as he eyed Sideswipe with some degree of suspicion. Whenever either one of the twins showed up, something bad would happen. It was practically a Law of Nature, and why would the medical bay be spared?

"Seriously, though, how you feelin'? That damage looks pretty nasty," Sideswipe's tone shifted to concern as he looked over Spike's form. While the life-threatening damage had been dealt with, Spike's body was still riddled with some rather horrendous looking wounds, the worst pretty much mangling his right arm.

"Actually, I feel fine," Spike admitted, while Bumblebee patted his undamaged shoulder.

"Primus, the amount of painkillers you must be on," Bumblebee said sympathetically…and then jumped (along with everyone else in the room) at Ratchet's sudden outcry.

"Oh Primus, that's right! The painkiller cartridges will be wearing off! Aw, slaggit…" He winced to himself and sped towards a counter, seeking more analgesics. "I was counting on the sedatives keeping you under longer than that, so I haven't been boosting them like I'd usually do," he said ruefully and with more than a hint of apology in his voice.

"Really? 'Cause, to be honest, I don't really feel much of anything," Spike stated calmly - almost serenely. All the 'bots present turned to stare at him, incredulous… and that made Spike nervous. "What?" he asked, looking around at the gaping expressions of the mechs present.

"Don't toy with me, Spike," Ratchet growled dangerously. "Don't make jokes like that, ever. Do you understand me?"

"What joke?" Spike's metal brow furrowed in annoyance as he lifted his hands to gesture in bewilderment. "I'm telling you, I feel okay. I mean that buzzing sensation is pretty much everywhere, but it's not like it _hurts_."

"Whoa…you really don't feel anything?" Bumblebee asked in slight horror, giving the impression that, if he were human, he'd be going pale.

"Ratchet…what does this mean exactly?" Sparkplug asked in worry, causing the medic's brow to furrow in anger and curiosity. Before he could say anything, though, the cruel mistress known as fate decided to intervene; the half-sliced, inner cabling of Spike's damaged arm – which had been essentially the only thing keeping the limb attached, finally gave way. His forearm fell to the table with a clatter and then rolled off the edge, dangling uselessly from one last nerve cable before finally clanging to the floor.

Spike looked down at it, then at his friends, and let out a single, sheepish "Oops…"

Bumblebee and Sideswipe both gaped in shock. Bumblebee's face looked like it was frozen in a silent scream before turning to a supremely sickened look, his hand shooting to his mouth to prevent an involuntary expulsion of energon. Sideswipe's expression soon warped into a kind of dopey-yet-impressed smile, and gave voice to his thoughts on the matter with only one word. "Cooool," he drawled.

"OUT! Both of you get outta here NOW!" Ratchet bellowed, grabbing Sideswipe and Bumblebee roughly shoving them out of the bay despite their protests. He slammed the door shut and locked it before he turned to face Spike and Sparkplug who was also starting to look a little ill from the display. Ratchet narrowed his optics at the bemused Spike. "All right, boy, what are you trying to pull here?"

"Pull?"

"Didn't I tell you not to toy with me? I don't know what you're playing at with this tough guy routine, but I suggest you drop it now."

Now Spike was getting annoyed. "Tough guy routine? Ratchet, seriously, I don't feel exactly _good,_ but I'm not in agony or anything. It hurt more when I broke my leg when I was six."

"Spike… you've lost a LIMB," Sparkplug finally spoke, looking horrified, as well he should. "You can't honestly say you don't feel it… you just can't."

"I sorta just did…" Spike said sheepishly, while Ratchet picked up the detatched arm and then glared down at Spike. Only Ratchet could care with a glare.

"Once I re-attach this limb to you, I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I suggest you get comfy, kid. I'm going through every sensory conduit in your body and every circuit in your processor until I find what's glitched!" he said gruffly as he retrieved a welder. This was a serious problem; if Spike truly WAS nerve dead, for lack of a better phrase, then he would be at considerable amount of danger on the field.

However, he could have chosen better words. The talk of going through his processor brought back memories of a certain revelation, prompting Spike to flinch and shiver at the thought. Realizing what was going on his son's mind, Sparkplug leveled a glare at the medic, who shuttered his optics in confusion. "What? What?!" Ratchet asked with a frown.

"Ease up with that kinda talk. Given that certain facts about a certain meeting came up, I'd thank you to NOT talk about turning my boy inside out." Sparkplug now had his hands on his hips, and his glare intensified.

"What the Pit are you…?" Ratchet asked irritably before his optics widened and realization dawned – _that_ meeting. "Oh, slag!"

"Oh Slag' is right," Sparkplug growled. Spike for his part looked anxious. When he spoke it was with the fearful tone of a mech who might not have wanted the answers.

"Would…would you have done it?" he whispered, feeling something akin to a knot forming in his stomach… that is, if he still had one. The medic had a decidedly uncomfortable look about him.

"Spike…" he sighed, trying to find words for something he did NOT want to speak of .

"Answer him, Ratchet. Answer the BOTH of us," Sparkplug growled, his gaze turning baleful and practically soul flaying. Ratchet looked at him, then at Spike, still shivering and now beginning to look actually frightened on his berth.

"No… no, I wouldn't have," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "It would have taken a frag of a lot more than Red gave us to make me do that. Not even with a direct order from Optimus."

Sparkplug sighed in relief, his expression softening some. "That's...comforting to know, Ratchet. Still, that it even came up... that we had to hear the truth from the mouth of that...that..." He growled in disgust as his memories turned to X. That he somehow created that monstrosity would haunt him for the rest of his days, though not nearly as much as learning so awful a truth from him. Spike stared at the ceiling as the weight of the matter began to bear down upon him.

"I knew you guys were.." He didn't say "scared of me", he just could not bring himself to actually speak it. Luckily the message was clear enough to the visibly troubled medic. "But that it was THAT bad…"

Ratchet bowed his head in shame before the ex-human and his father. "I'm sorry, Spike. The only thing I can say in our defense was that the option had to be raised before we could dismiss it...but that sounds pretty damn hollow, I know."

"VERY damn hollow," Sparkplug piped up, anger flaring before he softened and sighed. "At least we know you'd have never gone through with the cockamamie plan."

Ratchet again sighed before turning his attentions to Spike. "Probably I'm the last person you want near your processor at this point, Spike. If we had another medic in this gravity well, I'd happily turn your case over to him. But, as it is..."

Spike again shivered, then looked up at Ratchet questioningly, forcing himself into relax. "You say there's something wrong with my nerves?" he ventured.

"Considering you're not screaming in agony right now and I've not given you a lick of additional analgesia, damn right there's something wrong." Ratchet snapped, his trademark irritability returning. Sparkplug groaned, shaking his head sadly.

"As if there wasn't enough going on in his life…" he grumbled. A weak chuckle came from Spike as he forced a smile for his father.

"You always said, 'It never rains but it pours'."

Ratchet kept silent, torn between wanting to smack Spike and yell at him to cooperate already and the knowledge that was the one thing he COULDN'T do at this point.

"Yeah, but it usually stops after a bit," Sparkplug sighed before turning to face Ratchet. "So you're saying my boy is the Cybertronnian equivalent of being nerve dead?"

The medic scowled fiercely. "Let me put it this way. If Ironhide was on this table with the same injuries, he'd be screaming his head off...that is if his processor hadn't already off-lined in self-defense."

Spike's optics shuttered in a blink. "Heck…"

"God…" Sparkplug winced. Spike was THAT damaged? He should be in THAT amount of pain? He shuddered at the thought; as a war veteran he was no stranger to pain, but still.

"So you see why I might be just a little bit concerned." Ratchet drawled, his sarcasm rallying at last.

"Do what you have to, Doc," Spike finally said as he rested his head back against the berth.

"No kidding," Sparkplug murmured. Ratchet picked his tools up, readying them for the long job ahead.

"Okay, I'm gonna get you put back together the rest of the way, first. I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you a break before we go through your pain net." Ratchet explained as he revved the tools up. Spike for his part could not help but grin.

"That would be the calm before the storm, right?" he quipped, prompting a chuckle from Sparkplug.

"So what else is new? Lay down and let the mech work boy!" he smiled, happy to see his son calming down finally.

"And it's my chance to decide what the Pit I'm going to do to Red for this frag-up." Ratchet growled as he set to work on Spike, the sound of sparks flying and metal grinding filling the med bay.

"I suggest a forced vacation. That ought to drive him up the wall," Spike offered impishly. Ratchet chuckled and shook his head.

"Too much trouble to get him back in working order again after his CPU locks up. I'd say a good smack upside the cranial unit would do it. Better than what..." He suddenly fell silent as a horrific realization dawned upon him.

"What?" Sparkplug asked anxiously, fighting off the panic he was feeling at Ratchet's suddenly horrified face. Ratchet turned his head to the two, his face now wearing the same axiousness as Sparkplug's tone.

"I know I have no right to ask this of you two, but...I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this. At least until I've discussed it with Optimus. I've got enough work to do without having to put Red back together if...certain mechs found out." Ratchet was utterly serious as he spoke, as well as more than a little apologetic.

"Oh man, you're right…" Sparkplug murmured, his eyes widening. In his head, an image formed of a panicked Red Alert dashing down the halls of the Ark, pursued by a screaming and homicidally-enraged, axe-wielding Bumblebee. Under normal circumstances a hilarious thought, but given that things now were anything BUT normal…

Spike's optics widened, his own thoughts echoing those of his father. "Yeah...actually, I think Red Alert's kinda got his already. The act I had to pull to get Dad away from X..." Sparkplug winced at the memory. He did NOT want to repeat that again. Ratchet for his part returned to his work resolutely, determination written in his metallic face.

"Well, I'm gonna have 'words' with Optimus and the whole command staff about this. Now lay back and relax," he ordered as he continued with his work.

Spike did as ordered, though his mind was hardly relaxed. Yet again, he'd had a revelation about his new nature sprung on him, leading him once more into a spiral of frustration and self-doubt. Although, given how it seemed the universe was picking on him, he was more than justified in feeling this way.

_It never ends…it just never freaking ends! _He thought to himself angrily. _Am I EVER going to get a goddamed break?!_

* * *

Had some informative deity been listening to Spike's question and saw fit to answer it, he would have said something around the lines of "Hell no." For even as Spike recovered from both his battle and the latest shocking revelation in his life, events were unfolding deep within the Nemesis II that would prove hazardous for the former human.

"Wonder what the boss wanted us for?" Thundercracker asked aloud to his companion, the currently sullen Skywarp. "Must be pretty important for him to call us all here, eh?"

"Hrmph," was the sole response of the other jet, and Thundercracker could only sigh as he gazed forward over the mass of Decepticons ahead of him, the murmur of their own private conversations and gripes echoing through the room. For Thundercracker, it hadn't been easy being with Skywarp ever since that battle. He supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised though; what had happened to him was simply horrifying, especially from the viewpoint of a flyer. Ever since leaving the medical bay, Skywarp had become a sullen, moody, and short tempered mech. It was disconcerting to the blue mech to see his friend in such a state, and more so to see his attempts at lightening Skywarp's spirits - or at least get a positive reaction from him - fail over and over again. Still, he wasn't going to give up on his friend. He'd break out of his funk, eventually. He'd have continued, but the appearance of Megatron at the head of the room quickly silenced him. The grey tyrant was accompanied by both Soundwave and a somewhat perturbed Starscream.

"Fellow Decepticons, lend me your audials!" he bellowed out. The reaction was almost instantanous, everyone shutting up and turning their heads to face their leader. Skywarp did the same, though his dark expression did not alter for a moment. Megatron, having gotten the attention of the room, continued. "As you are all aware, the Autobots have a new addition to their ranks, formerly one of their little organic PETS," he spat.

"Wonder whose fault THAT is?" Starscream remarked snidely, prompting some chuckles from the crowd before they were silenced by a glare from Megatron. Soundwave was the only one in the room who remained silent and still, standing by his master's side as he had done for countless vorns. Normally, Megatron would have put Starscream in his place right then and there for daring to interrupt him, but he refrained; Starscream would get his comeuppance soon enough, much better then a simple beating could deliver.

Megatron continued with his speech.

"I have decided that this abomination, this affront to our own glorious purity, must not be allowed to continue existing! It is for this reason that I have reached this decision; whoever is able to kill the FAKE Autobot known as Spike, shall not only be rewarded handsomely in energon, but he shall also be my NEW second-in-command!"

"WHAT?!" Starscream shrieked in utter shock, while the other Decepticons began to chatter excitedly as an opportunity unlike any other presented itself to them. Way in the back, Thundercracker noted that Skywarp at last had a smile on his face; a dark, deeply malignant smile.

"Megatron, this is a joke, you can't be serious!"

Megatron simply smiled down at his Air Commander.

"What? You've long boasted of your prowess as both a warrior and leader; think of this as a chance to prove it. After all, if you're good as you say you are, you should have NO difficulty in taking down that freak and keeping your position," Megatron said smugly before shoving the indignant seeker aside and observing his handywork with an demonic gleam in his optics. He ignored the squawkings of his second-in-command as he took a moment to marvel at the plan he developed. It was perfect… uttery and completely perfect. Each and every last one of the piratical mechs under his command would be aching for a stab at Spike now, and with a little luck, the aberration's days would be numbered now. Even better, with this threat to his rank present, Starscream would be doing everything in his power to be the one to do the deed. Loath as Megatron was to admit it, Starscream WAS one of his better warriors, flaws and all. And now all of that skill and ferocity was going to be focused on one target and one target only - something for him to obsess over other than usurping the command of his betters for once.

Life in the future was about to become much, much more difficult for Spike than he'd could have realized. And Megatron was going to love each and every second of it.

_Sooner or later, Spike. Sooner or later… _he thought to himself with a dark chuckle.


End file.
